


Zero Sum Game

by 12hues



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe, Angst, Assassination, Biological Weapons, Blood and Gore, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Government Conspiracy, Gun Violence, Horror, Human Experimentation, Inspired by Killing Eve (TV 2018), Inspired by Venom (Movie 2018), M/M, Multi, Murder, Organized Crime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24037039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/12hues/pseuds/12hues
Summary: Counter intelligence agent Galo Thymos chases after an elusive assassin whose trail of killings lead closer and closer to the heart of Promepolis.Generously inspired by Killing Eve, slightly inspired by Venom.
Relationships: Gueira/Meis (Promare), Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 12
Kudos: 44





	1. He's Very Impressive

**Author's Note:**

> super special thank you to [cheri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishiggy/pseuds/cherishiggy) for beta-ing! the hyphen apocalypse will go down in history. 
> 
> i would first like to say that i did very minimal research of government processes / the structure of national security systems to make this fic work. i have seen killing eve thrice and venom once. i found them both very sexy. as promare is in itself also a little sexy i thought this would be fitting.
> 
> this is an entirely self indulgent fic so please do not expect canon accuracy or any semblance of thorough research. i am just having fun and i suggest you all do the same. in these trying times that is all we really can do

Somewhere along the coast, fireworks burst brilliantly in the night sky, multitudes of colors shimmering brightly before fading into the darkness. An extravagant hotel stands tall along the shore, its countless twinkling lights a spectacle in itself. The penthouse suite with its many windows and picturesque balcony overlooking the sea lay mostly dark, and mostly quiet, save for some candlelight and a soft melody.

In the dark of the hallway at the entrance of the suite, a sizzling noise can be heard from beyond the double doors. A soft glow radiates between the cracks, bright like neon but gentler as it dims. The handle turns silently as smoke wafts through the opened doorway.

A single boot steps into the entryway, followed by a lithe body covered in the darkest black. Pale skin peaks from beneath a crown of lightly-colored hair.

The intruder exhales slowly and listens.

Music sounds from within the suite, operatic but quiet in the expanse. Humming accompanies it from the bedroom.

The lone figure pauses before the hall to the bedroom. To his left, a pair of crossed feet bounces gently to the rhythm of the song. To his right, steam flows from the bathroom out through the open balcony doors, dissipating into the cool night air. The room smells of lavender. Distant fireworks can be heard, their pops of color barely catching on the bedroom floor. The reflective material cloaking the intruder catches it as well in a dim, iridescent shine.

A soft pink flame floats across the balcony and enters the room before disappearing in a bright spark of light.

The humming stops and the feet atop the bed still.

The intruder steps forward.

* * *

Working in counter intelligence and defending the country against sinister underground organizations sounds exciting on paper, but in reality it’s about as thrilling as any other office job in the country. Workplace gossip tends to be the same wherever you go; people have affairs, people backstab each other, people take things personally and take it out on other people.

The only differences are the amount of money involved and how far you’re willing to take it.

In the end, the person who’s caught in the act has the same reasoning and excuses as anyone else. Money. Family. Revenge. Love. Catching the bad guys isn’t as thrilling when they’re some angry millionaire who got cheated on or some big government official who pays big bucks for an even bigger position of power. They’re all relatively unimpressive and too sloppy to properly cover their tracks.

Most people aren’t intelligent supervillains or criminal masterminds, anyway.

To say it’s all a bit disappointing would be distasteful and frankly, a little lacking in ethics. After all, no one said national security was supposed to be fun.

One thing Galo Thymos can say with complete confidence though?

He’s ridiculously bored.

So when he’s called into work last minute on a Saturday morning to discuss a brand new case, he’s not all that bothered. A little change in routine is more than welcome.

The same probably couldn’t be said for his coworkers, though. As he enters the building he catches sight of one sluggishly trudging her way into the building ahead of him.

He jogs up to walk by her side. It’s Aina, with her bubblegum pink hair wrapped up in a sweet little updo that completely contradicts her sour expression when she meets his eye.

“Mornin’!” Galo grins, bumping Aina’s shoulder with his. She gives him a half hearted glare with puffy eyes.

“It’s almost insulting how peppy you are on a Saturday morning,” she pouts. “How are you not hungover?”

“Chugged water when I got home,” Galo begins, counting off on one hand while the other digs in his bag. “Flushed a lot of it down the toilet the night before, had a super hearty and healthy breakfast this morning, and then jogged the rest out before getting called in.”

Aina crinkles her nose and leans a little further away. “So that’s why you’re so sweaty.”

“Well I would’ve dried off by now, except I figured a quick coffee run would be helpful-” The drink is quickly plucked out of his hand, along with the rolled up paper bag containing a lukewarm croissant. “Hey! That one was for me!”

“We can share,” Aina says as she practically chugs her coffee. A hearty sigh escapes her lips. “God, I needed that.”

Galo hums. “You wouldn’t have if you didn’t skip out on me today.”

The bag is unraveled quickly and Aina tears off the end of the croissant with her teeth. She washes it down with another swig of coffee before gesturing to Galo with her now half empty cup.

“Oh, shut up. You’re the only person crazy enough to work out after partying all night.”

“No, see, it’s crazy that people don’t work out after partying! I’m at a hundred percent right now, and where are you?”

Aina gives him a look. “A hundred percent ready to kick your ass if you give me any more grief. You’re making me cranky.”

“You sure about that?” Galo grins in challenge. “I’m all warmed up.”

“I’d still knock you on your ass and you know it,” she replies.

He shrugs in answer, thinking back to the last time they had a friendly little wrestling match. When it comes to brute strength, they’re more or less on the same level. To be fair though, she is a bit better about reading his moves. Not that he’ll ever admit that.

They reach the end of the corridor where a pair of large wooden doors sit firmly shut. The offensively bright overhead lights blare inside through the glass paneling, signaling the room is in use.

Aina sighs heavily.

“Okay, so,” she eyes Galo wearily, handing him the bagged croissant before wrapping her fingers around the door handle. “We are definitely late, and I would love it if we- scratch that, actually, you- could enter quietly so we don’t look like complete idiots. And keep quiet, please. I don’t have the brain power to puzzle out all your theories in one sitting and I’m sure nobody else does either.”

“Oh come on Aina,” Galo takes a bite out of the croissant and gives her a wide, bread-filled smile. “We’re not even that late-”

The doors slam open just an inch of Galo’s nose, and crumbs sputter from his open mouth. Aina jerks her arms back just in time to avoid accidentally wrenching her arm from its socket. The two look up in shock to see the aggressively bald shark-toothed mug of one Executive Assistant Director Vulcan Haestus.

“Look who decided to grace us with their presence,” he smiles unkindly. “Would you two like to keep wasting everyone’s time?”

Two heads shake in unison.

“No? Well then, you’re welcome to get your asses seated _right now_.”

Ducking under his arms, Aina and Galo rush into the room to claim two open seats at the end of the table. A few of the table members shake their heads or exchange looks. Their department head, Ignis, solemnly sits across the table.

He and Aina share a series of looks that Galo finds impossible to understand. Ignis doesn’t look as pissed as Vulcan, at the very least.

“Ignis,” Vulcan barks, sitting down at the head of the table with enough force to make the chair whine under his weight. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ignis offers him a nod, setting out papers across the table. Two sheets in particular contain portrait shots of a very well-known millionaire and his much younger celebrity girlfriend.

An additional portrait of the man is placed next to the two, though this one features a particularly bloodied face and lifeless eyes.

Galo crinkles his nose, and swallows the remnants of his croissant with an audible gulp.

“I’m sure you’re all familiar with Tytus Minos,” Ignis begins, calm and monotone voice a stark difference against Vulcan’s. “Millionaire, adult film director, self-proclaimed philanthropist, popular on television and… social media platforms.”

_‘Porn sites,_ ’ Galo mouths at Aina, who shoots him a warning look.

Ignis continues on, stacking papers atop papers as he speaks. “He was murdered last night during a private event after he retired to his penthouse suite. His girlfriend, Irina Neumirayushaya, publicly known as Rina Darling, happened to have fallen asleep in the bath shortly before. Apparently the killer wasn’t aware she was there. She woke up after hearing the struggle and immediately fled the scene once the killer had exited using the balcony window.”

“The bitch hightailed it out of there real fast. We only got her in police custody this morning,” Vulcan says impatiently, a clenched fist set upon the tabletop.

“She’s too inebriated to supply us with a description of the killer as of an hour ago.” Ignis notes. “Looks like she had a hard time coping with what she had to witness last night. Even for a big shot like Minos, it was unexpectedly gruesome. Possibly personal.”

Another photo is added to the pile, this time a full body shot of a badly-mutilated corpse. As everyone glances over with a grimace, Galo continues to lean forward until Aina tugs him back by the arm.

“Looks like burn marks,” Galo suggests loudly, crossing his arms and matching Ignis’ stance from across the table. “Not your typical murder weapon, but not something we haven’t seen before.”

“The autopsy results aren’t in yet,” Ignis cuts in. “We don’t know what the murder weapon was for sure.”

Vulcan eyes Galo critically.

“What are you talking about, Thymos?”

“There are a few more assassination cases we have on file that match the injuries on this body,” Galo says, smacking his hand on the photos. “Burns are already rare, but these seem identical to a weapon we’re still unable to identify.”

“By a few, he means two,” Ignis corrects gruffly. “This would make a third, if we had the autopsy report and further evidence to link these incidents by anything other than visuals and a lack of concise detail.”

Ignis stares hard at Galo from across the table.

“Bet it was a stealthy kill, too,” Galo continues louder, ignoring Ignis to meet Vulcan’s harsh gaze with his own determined one. “Our other cases have the victim placed where they were in total isolation for a short period of time, but could be found almost immediately. Both were practically maimed by something that can pierce deep and burn at the same time. The affected areas have a tendency to keep burning well after the injuries have been inflicted. It might be like, a new chemical bioweapon-”

Vulcan scoffs. “Am I really hearing this right now? How is this department so incompetent it can’t identify this magical mystery weapon across three apparently linked cases?”

“Because it’s new, and the labs haven’t gotten back to us with testing yet and-”

“We have countless other cases that are more accessible to us in terms of resources and connections to already known organizations and entities,” Ignis cuts in sharply. “None of these victims have any known links other than the murder weapon seeming similar, which remains unidentified for the time being. It is our job to follow leads where we have them and focus our efforts on tangible means.”

A silence fills the already stuffy room as Galo and Ignis stare each other down. Aina glances between the two with a creased brow.

At the end of the table, Vulcan barks out an insincere laugh.

“Better keep that one on a shorter leash, Ignis,” he all but sneers, rising from his seat with enough weight to make the table strain under his palms. “I think I’ve heard all I need to hear. Somebody better set up the pornstar with security in case our killer feels like going for another round. Meeting adjourned! Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Chair legs squeak against linoleum floors as the rest of the table stands and collects their materials. Eyes linger on Galo and Ignis as the room empties, who stand firm across both sides of the table.

“Here’s to hoping your conspiracy theories aren’t _complete_ nonsense, Thymos!” Vulcan comments with a pat on the shoulder that almost sends him flying forward. “I only tolerate a loud mouth if he’s got a good point to make.”

He exits the room with a shit-eating grin.

Aina sighs once only the three of them remain, followed shortly by Ignis exhaling deeply out of his nose.

“Okay, _what?_ ” Galo asks, arms spread in frustration. Aina smacks the back of his head.

“Ignis was trying to look out for you, idiot,” she hisses. “You gotta be careful about the kind of things you say in front of Vulcan. Bring up anything besides irrefutable facts and he’ll bully you forever for it.”

“So what? I’m probably right!” Galo defends. “These are as good of leads as any other cases we have.”

“Our other cases have clear motives, clear murder weapons, and clear suspects,” Ignis says. “I keep my department neat and tidy for a reason. Vulcan likes to reshuffle departments at the drop of a hat for any dead end investigations, or anything ‘inefficient’ happening under his jurisdiction that he catches wind of.”

“Honestly, I think he just likes firing people,” Aina adds. “For the drama mostly, and for an excuse to abuse his power as often as he can.”

“We are considered _very_ expendable and easy to replace.”

“It’d be a pain in the ass to have to train someone else just because you’re too much of an excited puppy about your theories to get it together in front of our higher ups,” Aina chides. “And I think most of us would like having you stick around, rookie.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” said rookie mutters. “I’m just trying to do my job, y’know? So what if I’m not prim and perfect with the delivery?”

“Just try to be professional about it,” Ignis replies.

“I appreciate you watching out for me chief, really I do!” Galo offers, rubbing the back of his head which is still a bit sore from Aina’s reprimand. “I’m definitely onto something though, I can feel it. Let me handle this and I’ll prove it to you.”

“You wanna keep your job? Be one step ahead at all times. Keep your theories to yourself until you have solid evidence to back it up,” his department head huffs. “You’ve got a competent team behind you and a good head on your shoulders, kid. Just try to use it before you go running your mouth prematurely.”

“Let me use my good ol’ head on this case, then!”

Ignis’ shoulders relax a bit before he nods at Aina. “You two work on getting security detail for that witness and then call it a day. We’ll look into this more on Monday.”

“You got it, chief,” Aina says, wrapping her arm around Galo’s as she guides them out of the room. “Oh, and happy birthday again! Last night was a blast.”

He inclines his head at their retreating figures and Galo’s mock salute before rubbing tiredly at his forehead with a groan.

* * *

Many miles away, in a shithole motel room that smells of bleach and pesticide, two men sit together atop a springy mattress with a pack of beers between them.

Backpacks and small traveling bags sit lined against the wall beside the bed, ratty and worn from years of use. Leather jackets are slung over the minimal amount of furniture in the room. The air is damp, partially from what is probably mold and mildew in the walls but mostly from the hot steam coming from the open bathroom door. The shower squeaks from exertion.

“He’s gonna use up all the damn hot water,” grumbles one of the men, his words muffled by the beer bottle between his lips. “God damn diva.”

“He hasn’t washed his hair in days, Gueira,” his companion replies. “Let him be a diva for now.”

“All that luxurious hair, and for _what_?” Gueira groans, leaning back against the bed frame with his dirty boots atop the starchy bedsheets.

“For who, you mean?” A knowing smile passes on the smaller man’s lips. Gueira hmphs, cradling his beer tighter to his chest and looking away.

A quiet chuckle fills the space between them. The shower screeches to a halt and shortly after, a hair dryer screams to life.

“Finally,” Gueira takes a swig of his beer before placing it on the nightstand beside the bed. “I’m up next, boss.”

“Sure.”

As the conversation lulls, the other man pulls out a laptop from aside the bed and places it in his lap. Upon opening, the screen remains black save for a password entry screen. He types quickly with gloved fingers, gaining access to a similarly barren-looking database. One of the folders, labeled by location, is opened with a similar password-protected entry.

Within it are a collection of text files, alongside numerous photographs of notorious pornographic actress Rina Darling.

Gueira pauses as he sits on the edge of the bed, eyeing the file with a grimace.

“Boss...” Gueira begins, glaring hard at the scuffed points on his leather boots. “I’m sor-”

“Please don’t.”

He looks up at his leader, his eyes hard as steel but skin sunken and pale beneath. He blends in with their surroundings; muted colors against a dull backdrop. Unassuming, delicate even, until he turns his eyes towards you.

Vivid violets that blaze with unwavering flames.

Such strength in such a fragile-looking figure. An unbreakable will that burns endlessly, a single flame that lights the way in this cold and dark world. Something to hold onto. Someone to cherish.

They stare at each other for a moment, the whirring of the hair dryer coming to a sudden stop.

“Don’t apologize for this,” his leader says quietly. “Never apologize for this. Especially not to me.”

“But now you’ll have to…” Gueira grits his teeth. “Again.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You better be,” says a third man as he enters the room with his hair wrapped tightly in a towel. “This one’s a little too crowded for comfort, but we’re prepared. Got a little costume and everything.”

He nudges a bag beside the bed where a pair of lavender hued scrubs pokes out from the open pocket. The other two exchange glances before their leader turns back to his laptop with practiced indifference.

Gueira scrunches his nose. “Really, Meis? That color is so...”

“What? It matches his eyes.”

Gueira scoffs, which sounds suspiciously like a laugh, before leaning forward to tug his boots off. He stalks off to the bathroom, pulling his clothes off and leaving a trail behind him. The showerhead once again complains noisily against its usage.

Meis sinks into the end of the bed with a sigh, the mattress groaning from the added weight. His eyes cast up to the smallest of the three, still sitting cross legged at the center of the bed, reviewing the document with careful consideration.

He catches sight of the small black earring hiding between locks of lightly colored hair. His gaze softens ever so slightly.

Meis exhales quietly, closing his eyes as he lets one last remark pass under his breath.

“Be careful, Lio.”

* * *

“I just want to remind you how _entirely unnecessary_ this is on a Saturday.”

“Then I’ll just remind you that I didn’t ask you to tag along,” Galo retorts, earning an elbow to the ribs from Aina. “Seriously, go home if you want! I got it from here.”

They turn the corner together, walking side by side along the edge of a busy plaza. Various office buildings pack tightly together the further they go, the result of a multitude of hasty businesses eager to set up shop near the ever expanding city of Promepolis over the years.

A pristine white hospital building stands tallest at the end of the street, newly built and immaculately maintained. The two squint in unison at the harsh noon sunlight reflected in the hospital’s many windows.

“No way,” Aina says. “Ignis wants me to make sure you don’t cause any trouble, for you and for our department.”

“What! He did not say that earlier.”

“He gave me this face,” Aina stares at Galo with an intense gaze and a furrowed brow. “That means he wants me to keep an eye on you.”

“I’m just doing what he asked us to do!” he defends.

His companion raises her brow, nodding her head towards the hospital building ahead of them.

“He definitely did not ask us to ambush our witness at the hospital for an interrogation.”

Galo gasps in mock offense. “ _Aina!_ As if I would do that. I just wanted to keep her company before our security team arrives. I’m sure she’s very traumatized and could use some emotional support.”

“ _Riiight._ And I’m sure you’re just itching to get some information out of her while her memory’s fresh,” Aina accuses, tucking her arm into Galo’s elbow. “You ain’t slick, Thymos.”

“Talking about it will help her process things emotionally, and help us get a lead on who murdered her boyfriend.”

“Sure, if she’s willing and not still _completely hammered_. It’s only been a few hours since she was released from police custody.”

“Well either way, she’ll have two hot jocks to keep her company,” Galo says with a wink, to which his companion rolls her eyes but can’t help the laugh that escapes her.

“Let’s keep it professional, rookie.”

They stroll up leisurely to the hospital entrance. At the front desk, an older woman eyes the two newcomers with apparent interest.

“Hi there,” Galo grins, leaning one toned arm against the counter. He flashes his ID before gesturing to Aina with a nod.

“We’re here to provide some support and company for an Irina N. until her security escorts get here.”

The nurse bats her eyelashes. “Sure thing. Fourth floor, room 403.”

“Thank you!” He says, smiling brightly at her once again before pushing off the counter and heading directly for the stairs. Aina glances behind her at the nurse before rolling her eyes.

“You’re such a schmooze.”

“So what?” Galo replies. “It helps!”

They take the stairs two steps at a time competitively. Aina reaches the fourth floor just a half second before her companion, and triumphantly shoves him to the side as she strolls easily into the hallway. She catches sight of a police officer sitting on the benches at the end of the hall, nursing a watery cup of coffee.

The two of them make their way to the benches, where the officer stares bleakly through the windows at the single occupant inside. Aina takes a seat next to him and nods at Galo.

He steps into the room with a disarming smile, the nurse attending to Irina smiling hesitantly in return.

“Excuse me, I’m not sure if she’s in any condition to be interviewed right now,” the nurse begins with her hands up in apology.

“Oh no, that’s alright!” Galo beams. “I’m just here to keep her company until her security detail arrives. We just wanted to check in and see how she’s doing.”

The nurse can’t help but return the bright smile, shyly heading out of the room. Galo watches her exit before taking a seat next to the bed. Irina lays quietly on the bed, propped up by a number of pillows. Her smudged makeup and bird’s nest hair match the overall look of pure exhaustion, but she’s nonetheless awake and alert.

“Hi Irina,” he begins, resting his elbows on his knees and meeting her eyes with a kind smile. “I’m Galo. I’m working on the investigation for your case. How’re you feeling?”

She sighs in response, breath shuddering in her chest and chapped lips pressed into a tight line.

“Like shit,” she croaks.

“I’m sure,” he replies. “I would too after what you’ve been through.”

Irina stares at him, brow furrowing further as tears begin to well. She turns to the ceiling, pulling her hands up to her face as wet sniffles begin to escape through her fingers. Galo gently maneuvers the IV away from snagging as his company begins to cry.

“Oh my god, _Tytus,_ ” she says weakly, repeating the name a few more times between wheezes.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Galo says quietly, giving her ample time to let out her abundant tears. She peeks at him between her fingers, sniffles quieting a bit at the tissue in his extended hand. She takes it with shaky fingers, blowing her nose loudly.

“We were celebrating, you know,” Irina sniffles, clutching the tissue tightly in her hand. “Our s-six month anniversary…”

Galo nods sympathetically. “Looks like he really went all out, huh?”

“Oh my _god,_ yeah,” she laughs wetly, breaths coming out in stutters. “Yeah, he always had money to blow. Big shot and all…”

She trails off, staring at the ceiling again with renewed tears. She turns to Galo, chin wobbling.

“Do you think they wanted his money?” She says softly, tears running down her cheeks. “Isn’t that always why… why they would...”

“We don’t know yet,” Galo shakes his head, putting a gentle hand on her forearm. “But we’ll find out. You can help too, you know.”

She nods her head vigorously, more tears escaping as he hands her another tissue.

“I know, I know, I just…” Irina bundles the tissue in her hand, a far off look in her eye. “It’s hard. I don’t... I don’t know what I saw.”

Galo leans forward slightly. “What do you mean?”

She glances at him with wide, afraid eyes. Galo leans back and clears his throat.

“I don’t know what’s real and what’s not,” she whispers harshly. “It was dark, and I had just woken up, a-and it was… He was…”

“Tytus?” Galo offers gently, to which Irina shakes her head vigorously. Her clammy hand clutches at Galo’s as she leans in.

“He looked like he had _claws_ ,” she continues, barely loud enough to hear through her ragged breaths. “I don’t know what it was, but they looked like claws and they… they _burned_ him.”

He feels the air fill his lungs sharply. _“How?”_

“I don’t _know!_ ” Irina insists, shakingly looking around them before leaning forward to continue their hushed conversation. “It was purple and pink and… _and_ … I think I’m going _c-crazy,_ oh _god! I keep seeing it!_ ”

“The claws?” Galo presses, knuckles white from how tightly he fisted at the bedsheets beside her.

_“The fire!”_ She all but screams, beginning to hyperventilate. “ _The fire w-was so many colors and they were both on fire but it was only hurting Tytus and he was saying things I couldn’t hear and-and I swear he jumped off the balcony somehow and the fire k-kept burning and-and it w-was s-so-”_

“Okay, Irina!” A nurse comes rushing in, pulling her away from Galo and back against the pillows of her bed. “You’re alright, Irina. You’re okay.”

She turns to Galo with a disapproving frown, Irina breathing erratically in her arms. “We need to sedate her now. You should leave.”

“Of course,” Galo mumbles, practically stumbling out the room. Aina looks up, concerned immediately when she catches the look on his face.

“What happened?” She asks, pulling him down to sit next to her on the bench.

“I don’t know,” Galo says quickly, eyes darting all over the tiled floors before meeting Aina’s gaze with a wild look in his eyes. “I don’t know, but I know it’s something big.”

“Wh-” Aina’s lips press together and her brow furrows. “What does that even _mean,_ Galo?”

“ _I don’t know yet!_ ” He practically exclaims, getting looks from the surrounding nurses. “Either she was on way too many drugs last night or we have a new bio weapon on our hands, or, _or-_ ”

He runs a hand through his wild hair and stares off in wonder.

“Our murderer is probably a highly skilled assassin who’s using pyrotechnics or, or something. He escaped through the balcony of a penthouse suite, Aina! _God,_ he’s...”

“He’s what?” She presses.

“He’s _very_ impressive.”

Aina smacks the back of his head hard enough to send a bit of snot flying.

“ _Ow,_ what the _hell!_ ” He yells in complaint, receiving numerous shushes from nearby nurses and a scowl from the officer next to them.

“Get it together!” Aina says through grit teeth. “You sound like an assassin fanboy when you talk like that. Mind you, Irina is still in the room right next to us!”

“Okay! Okay,” he says, hands up in defense. “You’re right. I’m chill. I just… I got excited.”

“Stop that,” she grumbles, slumping back into her chair.

“Stop what?”

“Getting excited like that. That’s lunatic behavior.”

“Oh come on!” Galo retorts. “That’s bullshit. I can’t be excited about my job?”

“I’ve worked this job a long time before you, Galo,” Aina says with a warning look. “Even I don’t get that excited by finding a potential killer. People are gonna start looking at you funny.”

“People look at me all the time! I work out.”

“That’s not what I mean!” She smacks his bicep, much gentler this time. “I mean people like Vulcan. Don’t be weird about doing your job and maybe you’ll keep it longer.”

“Fine! Fine, whatever,” Galo pouts, crossing his arms and eyeing his companion. “...I was right though.”

“We don’t know that yet,” Aina says, matching his posture. “Don’t get cocky.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Security should be here any minute now, so sit tight and then we’ll go.”

They huff in unison, sitting quietly for a few moments with Irina’s attendants bustling about from the other side of the window. Galo’s brain buzzes with the new information, his foot bouncing rhythmically against the floor. Aina watches the nurses busy themselves, occasionally glancing at Galo out of the corner of her eye. His eyes stay locked onto the wall, wide and alert.

Two additional uniformed figures join them at the end of the hall. Aina and Galo stand, exchanging pleasantries as the armed security officers set up their position within the room and at the door.

From the doorway, they can see Irina laying still in her bed, out cold and breathing slowly.

Galo rolls his shoulders, breathing out evenly and eyes the signs down the hallway.

“I’m gonna take a leak real quick,” he says, thumbing to a small staff bathroom a little down the way.

“Knock yourself out,” Aina says as she leans back to the police officer, eyeing the now empty coffee cup with interest. “Hey, where can I get one of those?”

He steps away towards the restroom, pushing open the door to a two stall room. One of the stalls has a piece of copy paper taped to it, with boldly written font that says ‘out of order’ in approximately five different languages. The other door is shut and locked, so Galo stands at the mirror and waits while he picks at the ends of his mohawk.

The stall behind him opens, and out steps a nurse.

A very pretty nurse, Galo notes, as the man steps beside him at the sink and begins to tie back his hair. The pastel-y purple scrubs are pretty fun, he thinks, and the lightness of his hair adds to the air of softness about this person. The mirror reflects surprisingly sharp eyes of a similar purple hue.

The hair tie snaps loudly, and Galo snaps out of it.

The nurse glares down at the broken hair tie with a frown.

“Here you go!” Galo says, extending his fist out towards the nurse. The other man turns to him in surprise, glancing back and forth between his face and closed fist.

Galo looks down as well, realizing that his jacket sleeve is covering his wrist.

“Oh, sorry,” he laughs, pulling his sleeve up to reveal a set of hair bands. He pulls one off and holds it out to the nurse.

“Got a lot of friends who sport a pony often,” he grins. “Me too sometimes.”

The nurse eyes him curiously before slowly reaching out to take the hair tie. “...Thank you.”

“No problem!” Galo beams.

A beat of silence passes as the nurse goes back to tying his hair. He pauses in his movements, turning to look at Galo with a questioning eye.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Huh?” Galo says eloquently. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Just waiting to see if that one breaks too in case you need another.”

A breath escapes the nurses lips in a huff, maybe a laugh if Galo reads into it.

“All clear,” the nurse says as he pulls his hands back down. “Thanks again for the hair tie.”

A comically small ponytail sits at the back of his head. Galo can’t help the grin that grows on his face.

“Sure thing, bud!” He says jovially, patting the nurse on the shoulder before remembering his bladder and turning towards the open stall.

The nurse’s footsteps are so quiet, Galo can’t tell if he’s actually left or not. Mind wandering, he thinks again of the hair tie wrapped around a tiny tuft of light hair. His ties break all the time too. He should probably replenish his hair tie supply at home soon.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and Galo tugs it out to read a text from Aina. _‘Got coffee. Want one?’_

Attached is a photo of very murky looking coffee in a little paper cup. Truly appetizing.

_‘No tks,’_ he types sloppily with one hand, shoving his phone back into his pocket and fumbling with his pants for a bit.

Business taken care of, Galo steps out of the stall and washes his hands. He dries them off, but not completely, using some of the droplets to touch up his hair. Satisfied, he steps back out into the hall and inhales deeply.

The pungent smell of metal fills his nose.

He freezes in place.

It feels like slow motion, the way he turns his head. His heart drops to his stomach. Streaks of crimson on the stark white floors lead into Irina’s room and catch the light.

Realization grips him like a vice, and he fights against the leaded feeling in his muscles to run into the room.

There are bodies everywhere and so, so much blood.

Galo almost trips over the police officer’s bloody arm extended across the floor on his way to Irina. He absently notices the two bodyguards laying still at the side of the room, and the nurse slumped over the end of the bed.

He reaches Irina’s body, lifeless eyes fixed onto the ceiling and mouth open in horror. A single scorching gash across her throat still gushes with blood.

“Oh fuck, _fuck_ ,” he gasps, “ _Fuck. Fuck! HELP!_ ”

“ _Galo?! What’s goin-_ ” Aina charges in, her foot catching on the police officer’s arm and sending her sprawling to the floor. Her coffee splatters across the tiles, blending together with the pools of red all over the room. She shakily pushes herself to her knees, looking down at her bloodstained hands.

An ear-piercing scream fills the room.


	2. When Do I Start?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even professionals make mistakes.

Galo wonders if staring at fluorescent lighting for too long has the same effect as staring at the sun. 

Definitely not as immediate a pain response as the _actual fucking sun_ , but it gets there, he realizes, having been staring a hole into the same spot on the ceiling for a good five minutes straight. 

His hands feel clammy and chalky at the same time. Probably from sweat and dried blood, but he hasn’t looked at his hands since they left the hospital and he doesn’t really care to see what the ratio is. 

Whatever it is, he’s probably rubbed off plenty onto the fabric of his jeans with how much his fingers keep digging into his thighs. 

A shuddering breath releases next to him. It’s Aina, who’s been still as stone save for the sporadic shivers that come and go since she sat down. While Galo’s been tilted back staring aimlessly into sickly yellow lights, Aina’s been boring a hole into the table they’re sitting at with her whole body hunched over. 

Her hands clutch together tightly atop the table, knuckles white and fingernails stained red. 

She glances down at her hands, and Galo reaches over and covers them with his own. She shifts, pulling one hand back down to her lap while the other clutches his like a lifeline. 

The door to the office they’ve been suffocating in opens with a slam, and they both jump. 

A very pissed off looking Vulcan enters the room with a disgruntled looking Ignis right behind him. 

Vulcan slams his hands on the table, head low but eyes wide with anger, accompanied by a grimace so fierce his canines show between his lips. 

“ _What the fuck happened?!_ ” He bellows. 

Galo and Aina exchange looks. They untangle their hands, Galo shifting in his seat and opening his mouth to respond. 

Vulcan’s fury unleashes before he gets a chance to speak. 

“You two are a fucking _joke_!” He exclaims. “I give you one task, one simple thing to do, and you manage to fuck it up spectacularly!” 

“How are we at fault here?!” Aina protests, voice strong but shaky. “We did what we were told! We got the witness security detail, we were just-” 

“Just _what? Shooting the fucking breeze?_ Grabbing a shitty little cup of coffee the second someone else shows up to do the work for you!?” 

Aina winces, leaning back against her chair to avoid the spittle flying her way. 

“The officers were there,” Galo says lowly as Vulcan turns his rage onto him. “We didn’t leave the witness unattended.” 

“No, no you didn’t. Instead,” Vulcan’s voice goes low and harsh, “you tried to twist her arm for information, got her so upset the bitch had to be _sedated_ , and ruined any chance we had of further interrogation.” 

“No one would’ve had the time to interview her either way, it was minutes after I spoke to her that-” 

“ _Minutes after you had her screaming bloody murder! No wonder the killer found her so fucking quickly!_ ” 

Aina’s jaw drops in shock while Galo barely contains the growl that’s threatening to escape through his gritted teeth.

“That’s- that’s too much,” Aina stammers, gaze darting rapidly between Vulcan and Galo. “We couldn’t have known, we were just… trying to do our jobs…” 

She then turns to Ignis with a pleading look, who stands with his arms crossed at the back of the room. 

“If you two had been there when the killer showed up-” Vulcan begins with a growl before Ignis cuts him off. 

“Nothing would have changed.” 

The Assistant Director whips his head around to Ignis with a glare. Ignis continues, voice startling calm.

“The murderer was capable of taking out two armed and experienced security officers, as well as two civilians, and then escape unnoticed within minutes. Neither of these two have the tactical training to be able to defend themselves from someone like that, let alone protect anyone else.” 

Galo’s hands ball into fists atop the table. 

Vulcan turns back to Galo and Aina, eyeing them with obvious disgust and anger. He pulls away from the table before speaking again. 

“You two are now witnesses to a fucking slaughterhouse. You made statements to the police already?” 

The two nod in unison. Vulcan scoffs. 

“So how’s it feel,” he asks coldly, eyes trained on Galo, “to be on the other end of the stick?” 

Galo stares tiredly back at him. “...Like _shit_ , sir.” 

“I bet! Good to know I’m not about to ruin your good mood then.” 

Vulcan smiles mirthlessly for a moment before it drops into a grimace. 

“You’re both fired.”

“ _What?!_ ” Galo explodes, standing up and knocking his chair back. “ _That’s not fucking fair! I was right!”_

Aina stands up as well, holding an arm out to Galo in worry. 

“Right about what? Your fucking sci fi theory?” Vulcan laughs sarcastically. “As far as I’m concerned, you took a drugged up porn star’s rambling as a legitimate statement, harassed a witness to the point of needing to be sedated, and witnessed a murder scene that now renders you both mentally and emotionally incapable of carrying on this investigation. You’re useless to me, and to the rest of this department.” 

“ _You’re not a fucking psychologist, you can’t just decide that-_ ” Galo booms, kept from jumping across the table by Aina’s firm grip around his forearm. 

“Don’t test me, Thymos,” Vulcan cautions. “I have the authority to get whatever the fuck I need to throw your ass out of this department.”

“Galo, please,” Aina pleads quietly at his side. “We’re done. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” 

“Well said, Ardebit,” Vulcan sneers, heading towards the door. “Pack up your shit and get out of here, both of you. Oh, and if I hear about either of you trying to worm your way back into this department, I’ll post up an armed officer at the front fucking door. Dismissed.” 

Assistant Director Vulcan Haestus takes one last condescending look at his two former employees before giving them both a cruel, satisfied smile, and then leaves the room. 

The only sound left is Galo’s furious, labored breathing. 

“Galo-” Aina starts, frowning as Galo pulls away from her and scrubs his hands through his hair in frustration. He huffs, taking loud and angry steps towards the door. Aina follows, slowing as they near their department head.

“Chief,” she says quietly. 

Ignis sighs heavily, rubbing at his temples before readjusting the shades of his sunglasses. He watches as Galo begins to pass him, reaching out and firmly grabbing hold of his arm. 

_“Galo._ ” 

Galo stares straight ahead, jaw so tight his teeth strain under the pressure. “Still looking out for me, chief?” 

“I’m doing what I can,” Ignis says quietly. “Go home, get some rest, both of you. You’ve had a rough day.” 

Galo jerks his arm out of Ignis’ grasp, not waiting for Aina to catch up as he heads towards his desk. As he tears through his folders and shoves them haphazardly in a box, Aina sighs sadly. 

“Hang in there,” Ignis says to her. 

She smiles woefully in return, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder before heading over to pack up her desk as well. 

The packing continues in tense silence, only disrupted later by the loud slam of the door as Galo leaves with everything he’s ever investigated packed roughly into a cardboard box.

* * *

The night Lio gets back to the motel, he stays quiet for a long time. 

The first time he came back after accomplishing their “mission,” he was an angry kind of quiet. Simmering with the kind of rage that radiates out of your skin and warns anyone who comes near just how close to the boiling point you are. It lasted maybe a full day at most before he started to calm down. 

It was a new kind of calm, one that signified a turning point, but a calm nonetheless. 

The second time was similar. A day of quiet, and then they move on. It never did get easier, but the routine following felt more “normal” in a way that makes less rational sense the longer you think about it. So they tried not to think about it too much. 

The third time probably would have followed the same pattern, had they not noticed their “mistake.” The screaming was too immediate, too close to where they had left the body. Someone had seen. The woman was in police custody the following morning. 

She was _supposed_ to be alone. They hadn’t expected the armed guards to arrive so quickly after she was admitted to the hospital, considering how incapable the police usually are about these sorts of things. Even the nurse seemed oddly keen on sticking by her side. The agents assigned to her case were unusually prompt and frustratingly thorough. 

Lio tries not to think about the numerous bodies he left behind in that hospital room, and fails spectacularly. 

Heat rolls off him in waves, and child-like whispers echo and grow in volume in the corners of his mind. He clenches his fist together, feeling the searing heat build against the tight leather of his gloves. Neon pinks and purples dance behind his closed eyelids. 

He takes one deep, steadying breath. 

When he opens his eyes again, there are no vibrant flashes of light obscuring his vision. He can see, in perfect clarity, the overcast sky and the murky colors of dirt and trees. A birdsong sounds somewhere nearby, and the trees bristle in the cool breeze. 

The world is depressingly gloomy once more. It grounds him. Reality settles back into place. 

It’s been days since he last spoke to his companions. 

They’ve been gracious enough to give him plenty of physical space, what with him coming in and out of the motel room at random without a word, but the increasingly worried looks they think he doesn’t notice are really starting to get to him. 

Can’t blame them, though. Undoubtedly they’ve found some news coverage of the carnage he left behind at the hospital. A sloppy means to an end, and a crippling blow to their sanity. 

They all fucked up on this one, but no one need take blame. It’s pointless to focus on the what ifs, on the new faces added to the mental catalogue of countless innocent victims lost to this horrific situation. No amount of words will ever be enough to convey the tremendous weight they’ll carry on their shoulders for the rest of their lives, so no need to bother talking about it. 

So Lio stews in silence, and he simmers, and he waits until he’s burnt up and emptied out enough to keep moving forward. 

They won’t fuck up again. 

* * *

Pizza doesn’t taste as good as it used to. 

Not a statement Galo ever thought he’d find true, given how mind-meltingly delicious the pies at his local spot are. But these past few days of sitting around at home with nothing to do has ruined his taste buds… and the ability to enjoy anything, really. 

Given that he has the pizza delivery guy come over more often than any other company, even before getting fired, one would think it would be the perfect pick me up. But no, he still feels just as shit with half a pie going cold in his lap. 

Not even the hours on hours of Golden Girls reruns can help him now. 

Aina’s called him a few times, and even offered to work out together, which would be really cool and awesome at any other time. But lately, he’s been avoiding interacting with people as often as he can on account of his awful mood. 

Galo doubts he’d be good company to anybody right now, anyway. 

Of course, self-wallowing doesn’t stop people from checking in on you whether you want them to or not. His phone rings for the second time that day, and Galo briefly considers letting it go until the person on the other end of the line eventually gives up. 

But he’s got nothing better to do, and really, people are just checking in because they care about him. 

He knows better than to take that sort of thing for granted. 

Galo fishes the phone out of his pocket with slight difficulty, the pizza box jostling in his lap and almost falling to the floor in the process. He grabs it with his free hand before it slides off completely, only a few crumbs escaping to the carpet. He places the phone up to his ear as he heads to the kitchen. 

“Yeah?” He says into the receiver, nonchalant. 

“ _Hello, Galo._ ” 

Galo fumbles in place, nearly dropping the box for a second time. He tosses it onto the kitchen counter before ripping the phone away from his ear, staring wide-eyed at the name on the screen. 

Kray. 

“ _Galo, are you there?_ ” The voice comes out muffled from the distance, and Galo shoves the phone back to his ear so quickly he almost punches himself in the face. 

“Kr- Dir, uhhh, hello sir!” He answers clumsily, smacking his face with his still slightly greasy hand. “It’s good to hear from you!” 

“ _Likewise._ ” Galo can hear the smile in his voice, and his heart swells. 

Director Kray Foresight, his lifelong hero, took the time out of his incredibly busy day of top priority activities to speak to him. 

It had been years since their last real conversation. 

Kray made sure to help Galo get his foot in the door when he first showed an interest in counterintelligence. Though most of his contributions were limited to being a role model himself as one of the most accomplished agents in Promepolis, and a small suggestion of Galo possibly having a bit of potential to the right people. 

After he got his foot in the door, Galo did not hear personally from Kray for years. Though, to be fair, Kray was not the kind of man who coddled those he saw capable. He was known to be direct, straight-to-the-point, and wasted no time on anything frivolous or unnecessary. 

Which meant that once Galo had secured himself a position, he was left to fulfill his potential on his own. He’s thankful for the confidence in his abilities at least, and for Kray even believing in him in the first place. 

Next to Ignis, Kray is the closest thing to a father figure Galo has known since he was very little. Though he doesn’t have much, he owes everything in his life to Kray’s influence. 

He can still remember the heat of flames against his back, a vicious and volatile wave of fire threatening to overtake him, and the security of strong, solid arms pulling him to safety. 

“ _I apologize for how last minute this is,_ ” Kray says, pulling Galo back out of reminiscing. “A _re you free to meet with me for a few minutes?_ ” 

“Wh- uhhhh,” Galo squints at the microwave clock in the dark of his kitchen. “Right now?” 

“ _If you’re available._ ”

“Yeah,” he responds instantly. “Yeah, of course! Where should I…?” 

“ _There’s a restaurant about two blocks down from your apartment,_ ” Kray continues. “ _The White Raven. Meet me there, and I’ll speak to you soon._ ” 

He doesn’t elaborate on how he knows where Galo currently lives, but he probably doesn’t need to.

“Sure-” Galo replies, but the line is already dead. He stares down at his phone in wonder before looking up again at the kitchen clock. In a mad shuffle through his apartment, he grabs his jacket and tugs on his shoes, soon after racing out the door.

It takes all of five minutes for him to sprint down to the main level, run two blocks, and find the restaurant at the corner of a quieter street. 

The sign says they’re closed, but still Galo sees a figure in a white ensemble sitting at a lone table through the large glass windows. 

He heads towards the front door, only mildly surprised when the door opens without complaint. 

The place is empty, and every table is cleared save for one with a modest setting at the center. The interior is sleek and modern, white with black marble, and completely cold without the hustle and bustle of fine diners. It’s a little eerie, to be honest. 

Kray Foresight’s compassionate face and warm yellow hair stand out in the monochrome, a beacon of light in the dull and dark. 

“Sir!” He calls excitedly, striding with purpose towards the table. Kray waves in return, brow relaxed and eyes kind. He gestures towards the seat across from him, which Galo takes immediately. There are two glasses of water already set out in front of them.

As Galo settles himself in, Kray begins to speak softly. 

“It’s been a long time, Galo.” 

Galo grins, all teeth. 

“Oh, definitely! Congratulations on the promotion, by the way.” 

“Thank you,” Kray smiles warmly. “I was told by my secretary that you were very vocal about it on my social media platforms when it was announced publicly.” 

“Of course,” he replies proudly. “Gotta let the world know I’m working under the best.” 

Galo falters for a moment, realizing, and then laughs awkwardly. 

“Or, _was_ , anyway…” 

“Right.” 

There’s a few seconds of silence. For some reason, Galo’s unable to lift his gaze. He watches Kray’s gloved hands, neatly folded atop the table, still as a statue. 

The very image of dignity and accomplishment, sitting right there across from him. 

The pit in his stomach sinks a little bit deeper. 

“I heard about your termination,” Kray says, and Galo barely suppresses his wince. “Very unfortunate. I saw great potential in you.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Galo says regrettably, reaching up to rub at his neck. “I’m sorry, sir-” 

“I still do, you know.” 

Galo freezes, hand hovering in the air around his ear. His eyes dart up to Kray, who smiles just as comfortingly as ever. 

“Huh…?” He says dumbly, unsure if he heard right. 

“Great potential often goes unrecognized when it presents itself in an unorthodox way,” his idol continues, reaching out and holding his glass delicately in his hand. “I don’t mean to undermine Vulcan’s decisions, of course. His reasoning for your termination was quite justified on paper.” 

Galo swallows, mouth too dry to speak. 

“However...” Kray pauses to take a sip of his drink. When he finishes, he sets it back down, turning to Galo and looking him directly in the eye. 

“Unusual circumstances call for unusual methods to deal with them. Especially in the case of handling what, I feel, could potentially be a matter of great importance. Ignis felt the same way, and made sure to express his confidence in your capabilities once you were terminated.” 

“Sir..?” Galo starts, uncertain. “I don’t understand… What are you..?” 

Kray leans to the side, pulls a folder from his bag, and places it neatly in front of him. He turns it to face Galo, opening the flap and revealing pages on pages of text and images. 

Documents undoubtedly pulled from Galo’s work computer. 

Specifically, his extensive collection of information on potential serial killers and assassins all over the country. He’d poured countless hours of free time into organizing it all, unbeknownst to the rest of his department. 

“Did you compile these yourself?” Kray asks. 

“Uh, yeah, but-” 

“All of it?” 

Galo blinks, eyes darting between Kray and the folder. “...Yes?” 

“Even this one?” Kray continues, thumbing through the pages until it lands on a document titled _‘Detroit._ ’ 

Galo stares at the page, posture straightening as he looks back at Kray. 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

Galo inhales deeply, his fists clenched in his lap. 

“I believe there is an assassin, possibly a team of them, operating on a linear path throughout the country.” He says resolutely. “He’s careful, _extremely_ intelligent, and virtually untraceable. I think he’s using a bioweapon to murder his victims, one we’ve never seen before and we have no idea how it’s been made or what longterm effects it has on anyone living. That aside, he’s operated in the central United States, but from the trail of victims it seems he’s headed east. And with the last being Tytus Minos and his girlfriend, it’s been getting closer and closer to-”

“Promepolis,” Kray finishes for him. 

Galo nods affirmative. “I know it’s a stretch, but with the pattern being what it is and the duration of time between killings becoming shorter and shorter…” 

“We don’t have much time left before he targets someone in our area,” Kray concludes. “I know.” 

“You do?” Galo perks. 

Kray exhales deeply through his nose. “It’s difficult to label a case a priority with so many unknowns attached to it. The murder weapon, while unusual, wasn’t worth further investigation without more details to its usage. However, the incident at the hospital revealed capabilities that even our most notorious assassins are unable to emulate at their most accomplished.” 

“This guy’s something else,” Galo mutters thoughtfully. Kray’s lips twitch into a smile. 

“What makes you think it’s a single person, let alone a man?” 

“Just a hunch,” Galo replies. “I don’t think the whole operation is just one person, but it’d be pretty hard for an entire group of people to get in and out of these places so quickly. I think it’s one guy doing the actual killing. Somebody really skilled.” 

“I see. Do you know of any possible motive?” 

Galo shrugs. “To be honest, I have no idea. None of our victims’ assets have been taken or reported missing, and there haven’t been any obvious relations between the victims. If I spent a little more time on it, I think I could’ve found something by now…” 

“Then, please do so.” 

“I- uh, what?” 

Kray adjusts the sleeve of his glove, idly brushing off nonexistent debris. “I’m authorizing you to continue your research. You’ll be allowed a small team of your choosing to assist you. I’ve prepared an office space in a private location to serve as your headquarters for the time being.” 

“Wait, I’m sorry, hang on-” Galo says in bewilderment. “You’re hiring me to find this guy?” 

“Yes,” his mentor responds simply. “You’ll be leading our investigation into ‘Detroit,’ as you named him, ideally before he reaches his next target. Only if you’re willing, of course.” 

“Hell yeah I am!” Galo exclaims, nearly standing from his seat but sobering once a thought hits him. “But what about Vul- the Assistant Director?” 

“You’ll be reporting to me, so it won’t be a problem.” Kray replies. “In fact, he won’t be made aware of your new position. I wouldn’t want to ruffle any feathers unnecessarily.” 

“ _Holy shit._ ” 

“Indeed.” 

Galo leans back in his chair, staring at the Detroit file in wonder. 

“So uh,” he laughs a little under his breath, feeling a little lightheaded. “When do I start?” 

Kray smiles. 

“Tomorrow.” 

* * *

Lio enters the motel room once again, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

The air inside is stuffy, nearly suffocating, and smells of stale cigarettes and cheap beer. The second pack of beer bottles atop the bed is nearly empty, save for a single one left untouched in the case and the half finished one in Gueira’s hand. 

An ash tray sits on the nightstand, nearly full of cigarette butts. 

His companions each have their own personal ways of coping with stress, both much more accessible and less time consuming than Lio’s.

The two look up at him, sharing uneasy glances at each other.

He sighs tiredly. 

“Meis,” he says into the stillness of the room. “What’s our trajectory?” 

“Boss,” Meis says softly. “Are you sure you’re ready? If you need more time, we-” 

“I’ve already wasted enough of our time dealing with this. Let’s move on. Quickly.” 

Meis exhales deeply, pulling the laptop from the small desk beside the bed and typing into it. Gueira averts his eyes, finishing the bottle and tossing it into the nearly full trash can nearby. 

“Our next target is the owner of a large cosmetics line,” Meis begins. “She’s a popular public figure, but she typically broadcasts privately from her home. Her home is in a gated neighborhood, likely with cameras and motion sensors, but not as heavily guarded as the last one. It should be clean.” 

“Good,” Lio sighs, coming to sit on the bed beside them. “How close?” 

“Just fifty miles,” Meis replies, turning to look at Lio uneasily. “But, Boss…” 

“ _What._ ” 

Gueira coughs, stepping away to stand near the window. Lio watches the way his shoulders tense, and glances at Meis, who sits stiffly by his side. 

He straightens. “What is it?” 

“We’re…” Meis sighs, head drooping a bit as he rubs his temples. “We’re being tracked. Someone’s watching us.” 

“Someone, specifically?” Lio questions. “Are they tracking all of our activity?” 

“I don’t know yet,” Meis mutters. “I can’t tell since they’ve just started digitizing their data, but someone’s doing a lot of digging on our past targets.” 

“Targets? _Plural?_ ” 

“Someone’s putting it together,” Meis confirms bitterly. “It was only a matter of time.” 

“That’s to be expected,” Lio says, waiting for the release of tension on his friend’s face and only growing more concerned when it never comes. “...What more is there?” 

“I can’t be sure yet,” Meis warns. “I don’t have all the facts straight. But I’ve got a hunch.” 

Lio clenches his jaw. 

“Just tell me already.” 

Meis begins typing away at the laptop, pulling up various documents and reading off them as he speaks. 

“The day you went to the hospital, there was armed security detail for the target assigned that morning. Before they arrived though, there were two counterintelligence agents with her.” 

Lio’s eyes widen. 

“You were lucky they happened to be out of the room at the time,” Meis grimaces. “But they were still in the building, and were the first ones to find the bodies.” 

Gueira steps over, plucking the last bottle of beer and popping the cap off before dumping it in Lio’s lap. Lio grasps it in his gloved hand, eyeing his friend in confusion. 

“You’re gonna need that,” Gueira says simply. 

Meis reaches for the nightstand, grabbing a still burning cigarette. 

“That very same day,” Meis continues, softer with the tab between his lips, “those two agents find the bodies, make statements to the police, and then immediately get fired by upper management on account of being too emotionally compromised to continue their services.” 

“Pretty small shit to get fired over,” Gueira comments, “considering the job description.” 

“Get to the point,” Lio warns. 

Meis takes a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling tiredly. “A few days later, someone starts compiling information about our targets all together.” 

“And you’re guessing it’s the two agents who were there that day,” Lio surmises. “So what’s the problem?” 

“The problem is who these agents are. One in particular.” 

“Why.” 

He turns to face Lio with a grimace. 

“He has a personal connection to one of our next hits.” 

Meis runs a hand through his hair, a ragged sigh escaping past the cigarette in his lips. 

“The other one I’m not too worried about,” he says tiredly. “But this one? He’s got a history, not just with who we’re after but he’s generally known for being… enthusiastic, so to speak. And loud. Christ, even his stupid mohawk looks loud.” 

Lio tightens his grip around the bottle, leather straining in his grasp. 

“Let me see the photo,” he demands. 

* * *

It’s been a few days since they’ve hunkered down and set up shop in their modest new office space, and Galo’s loving every minute of it. 

The building is within walking distance of his house, kind of buried in cheap apartment complexes in a sketchy neighborhood. It’s hard to find the first few times he tries to get to the office on account of the impressive amounts of graffiti making it difficult to locate the entrance, but hey, that’s a definite plus for privacy. 

The need for utmost secrecy adds to the realness of the situation, and may or may not put a little pep in his step. 

Their “office” is a small room inside the building. They’ve never seen anyone else come or go, but the rest of the rooms on the floor and surrounding areas stay locked and otherwise seemingly unoccupied. It’s a dingy place, with a plastic-y smell and exposed pipes, but it serves as headquarters for his team, so Galo loves it anyway. 

The team is small in size, but mighty, in his opinion.

Aina agreed to join in a heartbeat, happy to have a job again and work with her favorite ‘rookie,’ as she still affectionately calls him.

He’d ask Ignis to join their crusade, but he had wholeheartedly refused. 

“I’m too old to be running around like you lot,” he had said gruffly, softening his tone afterwards. “But I wish you the best of luck, and feel free to call me if you need anything.” 

So Galo had asked for a recommendation for his team, and was given Lucia. 

Lucia Fex was even more of a rookie than Galo was, considering her employment with national security was strictly freelance and she was fresh out of college. But her skills were unparalleled and her tone was as sharp as her wit.

It was her short stature and personality that made people question her abilities. 

Which was great for Galo, because he could give a rat’s ass about what she looked like or the way she spoke. Her polarizing reputation kept her out of high demand, thus readily available for the investigation indefinitely. 

And damn, was she good. 

“Full lists of Minos’ assets and staff,” Lucia drawled out lazily, words muffled around her third lollipop of the day. “Done and done.” 

“How do you _do_ that?” Aina asked, rolling across the carpet in her chair and squinting in confusion at Lucia’s many monitors. “We did this kinda stuff too, but never this fast.” 

“You can’t do what I do,” Lucia replies, lollipop bouncing in her mouth.

Aina scoffs, eyeing Lucia as she rolls back to her own desk. 

“Thanks Lucia!” Galo exclaims from his perch atop a desk in the far corner of the room. 

Behind him, a collection of photos and documents spread across a corkboard on the wall. Mutilated bodies and forensic profiles scatter across the expanse, connected together by several lines of thread. 

To be honest, the red string doesn’t actually connect shit. Galo just thinks it looks cool. 

He’s really got it all tied together in his head, as he always does. Having it written down is usually so he doesn’t forget anything or mix up case files together, but now that he’s only got one focus, it’s easy. 

“Hey, Aina?” Galo calls, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Catch anything yet?” 

“Nothing yet,” Aina responds woefully. “We’ve got all our data in one place, but still no leads.” 

“Hmmm. Lucia?” 

Aina side eyes Lucia, who barely inclines her head. “Sup?” 

“Do you have that lineup of staff ready?” 

“Which one do you want?” She asks, tapping away at her keyboard. “Minos’ staff, hotel staff, or hospital staff?” 

“You’ve got all three?”

“Yup.”

‘ _What the fuck?_ ’ Aina mouths at Galo in astonishment and mild irritation. 

“Uhh,” Galo raises his brows. “The hospital staff. But let’s keep those other two up! We’ll get to those later.” 

“You got it, chief.” 

Galo hops off his desk and pulls up a chair next to Lucia, motioning for Aina to join them. Lucia pouts at the two of them squashed up by her side. 

“Oh come on,” she whines. “This office smells like booty already. I don’t need two gym freaks and double the armpits crowding in on me too!” 

“Hey!” Galo defends. “I didn’t even work out yet today!” 

“If anyone’s unhygienic here, it’s certainly not me,” Aina replies. 

Lucia crinkles her nose. “What are you trying to say, _pinky_?” 

“I can smell your hair, _pigtails_ ,” Aina says pointedly. 

Lucia gasps loudly in offense, swatting weakly at Aina’s sturdy arms. Galo hums at the side, reaching over and using Lucia’s keyboard to key through the nurse profiles. 

“Let’s keep an eye on anyone particularly suspicious, guys,” Galo murmurs as his two teammates continue to bicker. “Looking for someone in their mid twenties to forties…” 

“ _You’re not supposed to wash it when it’s dyed!_ ” 

“Lucia, you still have to wash your hair _sometimes-_ ” 

He filters through a collection of middle aged nurses, all equally inconspicuous. 

“Aw, what,” Galo reaches the end of the list, frowning. “Is this it?” 

“I don’t want the color to fade-” 

“You can always retouch it, _seriously, it stinks-_ ” 

“Hey, I think you’re missing some files,” Galo says, elbowing Lucia. She flounders in her seat, turning to him with a scowl. 

“As _if,_ ” she retorts, gesturing wildly to the screen. “This location is new and their staff is super small. I even have new hires to replace the dead ones listed here!” 

Galo frowns at her, turning his eyes to the screen. 

“No, I’m sure you’re missing people,” he says resolutely, crossing his arms. “I distinctly remember seeing at least one person not listed… here…” 

He trails off, jaw going slack. Aina and Lucia lean over, eyeing him curiously. 

Galo raises a hand to cover his mouth in shock. 

“Oh my god.” 

“Galo,” Aina says uneasily. “What is it?” 

He turns to her, eyes wide. He removes his hand from his lips, revealing an ear-to-ear grin. 

“I think I know who our killer is. We’ve _met_.”

* * *

Meis turns the laptop to face Lio, two profiles set up side by side. One pink, one blue. 

The brighter-than-the-sun grin combined with the outrageous blue mohawk of one agent is particularly striking. He’s definitely seen it before, he thinks, a hand reaching up to feel at the strands of hair on the base of his neck.

The ghost feeling of a wide palm pressed firmly against his shoulder, and a lighthearted laugh….

Lio gasps sharply. 

“Boss?” Meis mutters in surprise. 

The beer bottle in his hand goes flying across the room, shattering loudly against the wall and coating the floor in shards of glass. 

“Jesus christ!” Gueira exclaims, eyes tracking the sparkling pieces all over the carpet. “Ah fuck, there’s beer on my boots!” 

“Lio,” Meis says hesitantly. “What’s wrong?” 

Lio sits with his hands in his hair, head tucked so far down it’s nearly between his knees. His back rises and falls rapidly with his labored breaths.

“It was all for _nothing_ ,” he growls through gritted teeth. 

“What?” 

“ _ALL of those people-_ ” Lio nearly roars, stopping himself with a frustrated grunt. He fists into his hair with one hand, the other slamming down on the mattress with so much force and heat that smoke spills out between his fingers. 

“All of those people at the hospital died for nothing. We didn’t protect ourselves at all.” 

The room goes quiet. 

“He’s seen you,” Meis murmurs. 

“Oh _fuck-_ ” Gueira tugs at his face. “Do they know?” 

“They will. If not now, then soon,” Meis sighs. “The hospital won’t have his profile listed as staff. Somebody is going to notice.” 

“Fucking hell,” Gueira groans. “They’ll have a wanted poster up in no time. This is becoming a nightmare.” 

“Boss,” Meis murmurs. “How do you wanna play with this?” 

Lio’s eyes trail to the window, watching as the treeline sways forcefully and the wind begins to pick up. It looks as though a storm will roll in soon. 

He sighs raggedly, looking up in resignation. 

“We have to kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im having fun


	3. Haven't Killed Me Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get hot and heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again to [cheri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishiggy) for beta-ing! 
> 
> This chapter contains graphic depictions of violence.

“Please describe the suspect to the best of your ability.” 

Galo sits in an uncomfortably cold metal chair in an equally chilly interrogation room. Or, well, it would normally be an interrogation room, but today it’s being used as an isolated space to discuss the police profile of a lethal assassin. A camera light burns red in the corner of the room, recording every word and movement just in case. He’s sure that Aina is sitting in the other room listening in. 

Across the table, an officer sits with a specialized computer, ready to input information to build up a facial profile based on Galo’s statements. 

Modern technology is so fucking cool. 

“Ready when you are, sir,” the officer shifts in his seat and gives him a nod. “Take your time, and include any details you can remember at all. Every little bit helps.” 

“Alright, then, uh…” Galo begins, brow furrowing in concentration. 

He takes a few moments to think, and then speaks. 

“He’s short… Almost a full foot shorter than me, I think. I stood right next to him and he came up a little taller than my shoulder, so maybe around five-foot-two or so? Green hair, but not like lime green or anything. It’s almost white, like, icy white, like those little mint gum sticks… Uh…” 

Galo frowns, closing his eyes in concentration. 

“His hair was longer in the front but like, buzzed a bit in the back. Long enough to put in a ponytail, but it looked kinda funny with how small the ponytail was. Like a rabbit’s tail or something. He had to tie it around so many times just to get it to stay put, it’s no wonder the hair tie broke.

  
“I don’t even know why he would need a hair tie anyway. Like, dude, your hair’s already pretty short. I don’t think it would’ve gotten in the way. Maybe he’s a neat freak? Didn’t really seem the type who liked to get his hands dirty, which is pretty ironic, considering. 

“His hands were… You know, now that I think about it, I don’t think he was wearing gloves or anything. His hands were really small, like, _tiny_. Like him. Almost delicate, but I wouldn’t really call him delicate. 

“Y’know, with the fluffy bob hair and the pale skin and shortness and all, you’d think the guy would be sort of fragile, but I don’t think I got that impression from him at all. I mean, don’t get me wrong, his face looked like a doll’s with the little button nose and pouty mouth and all, but still… 

“His eyes were super sharp. They were like, purple-y, what is that, violet? They’re bright, and alert, and when he looks at you it kinda feels like you’re the smaller one. He was so serious, and the way he meets your eyes head on and doesn’t look away is kind of intense. Like he sees right through you. 

“I don’t know, I guess at the time I thought, ‘ _he must be a really experienced nurse._ ’ Like, he’s seen some shit. But now that I think about who he is and the way he carries himself, I think it’s more than just that. There’s a depth to him, like he just understands people from that first glance and then adapts. But for everyone else, I think, he’s entirely inaccessible.” 

A cough echoes in the room. 

Galo opens his eyes to find the officer staring at him curiously. 

A few bland questions about face shape and tattoos later, and Galo’s released from the room. There are several other cops in the hall, giving him strange looks and sipping their coffee while maintaining suspiciously long eye contact with one another. 

Immediately, Aina catches him by the crook of his elbow, leading him down the hall with her and away from the peanut gallery. 

“What in the world was all _that?_ ” She gawks at him, tone hushed. 

“What?” He asks in confusion. 

“‘He sees right through you?’” She repeats. “‘There’s a _depth_ to him? _He’s entirely inaccessible?_ ’” 

“That was just my first impression, okay-” 

“I have never heard such an in-depth ‘first impression’ of anyone before, let alone someone you interacted with for a minute tops,” Aina says incredulously, looking him up and down. “Do you have a _thing_ for our killer?” 

Galo scoffs. “Aina, I do not have a _thing_ for Detroit.” 

She tugs at his arm. “You talk way too familiarly about him. You even nicknamed him, Galo.” 

“We gotta call him something!” 

“I think _‘murderer’_ works well enough.” 

“When we find out his actual name, we’ll use that,” he frowns at her. “Besides, I’m only calling him Detroit because that’s the location of the first kill. What else would I call him? Baby Face? _The Sexy Assassin?_ ” 

“Oh my god, please don’t.” 

“I’m kidding!” He exclaims with a laugh. “Relax! This guy happens to be the most exciting case we’ve worked on so far, but he’s still just some psychopath that we’ll bag eventually. It’s fine. You know how invested I get. You _know_ me, Aina.” 

She pouts, watching him warily. 

“Yeah, I do,” she sighs, tugging him along with her to the stairway. “Which is why I worry about you. Come on, then. Back to the office.” 

“Yes ma’am!” 

* * *

“You’re gonna get eye strain if you keep staring like that.” 

Lio glances up at Meis, chin tucked into his palm.

“Of all the dangerous things I do regularly, you’re worried about me getting eye strain?” 

“Oh trust me,” Meis sighs, slumping next to him on the creaky bed. “I worry about all the dangerous things you do. You’ll only listen to me for the small stuff though.” 

“That’s not true.” 

Meis scoffs. “Right, you don’t listen for the small stuff either.” 

Lio grins, bumping his shoulder into Meis’ side before turning back to the laptop in front of him. His friend leans over, eyeing the contents of the screen with distaste. 

It’s the portrait shot of Galo Thymos, the agent likely tasked to hunt them down. 

He’s grinning stupidly at something past the camera, mohawk big and blue and ridiculous. There’s a goofy police department sticker on his chest, shiny like the ones they give to kids on field trips. He wears it proudly though, like a real badge, which makes it so much more embarrassing to look at.

It’s hard to take him seriously at first glance, but he’s in charge of the investigation, so they’d do well not to underestimate him. Still, Meis doesn’t expect much from such an empty-headed looking loudmouth with a predictable life path.

He glances at Lio, who seems to be reading the documents detailing their targets, but Meis can see how his eyes keep trailing back to the photo. 

“That your type, Boss?” He nods to it. 

Lio turns to him in surprise, brows raised incredulously. 

“What?” Meis grumbles, fishing the cigarette pack from his pocket. “You’ve been staring at his picture for a while now.” 

“Meis, I’m going to kill this man.” 

“Doesn’t have shit to do with whether or not you think he’s hot,” Meis says as he places a cigarette between his lips. “I’ve never seen you interested in anyone before. I’m just curious.” 

“What are you, my mother?” 

“For all intents and purposes, yes.” 

The two share a look, and then quietly chuckle. Lio stares at his friend for a moment longer before sitting up and reaching over to snap his fingers at the end of the cigarette. The parchment ignites in a spark of pink, burning strong before dimming into a smaller yellow flame. 

Meis mumbles his thanks as he puffs on it. 

“He’s probably an idiot,” Lio says thoughtfully. Meis looks up in surprise. 

“Who, mohawk guy?” 

His companion nods. “When I was trying to tie my hair up, he was just staring at me. He gave me another hair tie after mine broke, and then he stood there and waited to see if the one he gave me would break too.” 

“Sounds like he’s into you.” 

“Or he’s just stupidly considerate,” Lio retorts, glaring down at the photo. “Either way, it doesn’t make me feel any better about it.” 

“It’s worse to think he might be a nice guy,” the other man hums. “Then again, the company he keeps is pretty telling.” 

Lio frowns. “Right. I’d rather focus on that. In the end, nothing else matters.” 

Meis considers him for a moment as he takes a long drag of his cigarette. Smoke curls out of his mouth in odd shapes, and he watches as the faintest hints of pink and green fade into the air. 

He wonders how much anything they do will matter, in the end. 

He hopes, after all the years and the effort, that at least some of it does. 

For Lio’s sake. 

* * *

Back at headquarters, the team focuses on cutting down the mountains of information that still need reviewing about the ever-growing list of victims. 

There’s a lot to consider. 

First of all, they know next to nothing about their killer. Well, killers, plural, if they include whatever team or organization is orchestrating the kills. Galo’s confident in the assassinations themselves being done by one person, Detroit, but he’s not sure how expansive the network behind the guy is. 

Which leads to the second obstacle in their investigation: the bioweapon. 

If there’s an organization backing Detroit, then there’s a research team and a lab and at least a few billionaires pouring money into these killings. Why they’d specifically want to use this weapon is up in the air, or if they even care what the method for murder is. Maybe it’s a cheaper alternative to other hitmen, considering the technology is new? 

The technology is so new, in fact, that the scientists working with national security aren’t making any great headway. 

Which, considering that’s the only piece of the puzzle that distinguishes Detroit from any other assassin, absolutely sucks ass. 

Galo scrubs through his hair in frustration. 

“Feeling stuck?” Aina calls from her desk across the room, watching Galo grumble to himself. He turns to her with a huff, his jaw fiercely pronounced with the deepset frown on his face. 

“The science-y stuff bothers me,” he tells her. “It’s not like I can do any of it myself, but damn, I feel like our chances at any other leads are slim without more info on the murder weapon.” 

“I know,” she agrees with a sigh. “The rest of this stuff will take so long to go through, and I’m not even sure we’ll find anything.” 

“Ugh,” Galo groans, wheeling his chair around the room in the circles. “This is the worst part of every investigation. It’s so _boring!_ ” 

“I thought this was your big break, big guy,” Lucia grins at him, sniggering. “What, not used to doing the actual work?” 

He wheels over to her, pouting. “That’s what you’re here for!” 

“And here I thought I was doing a good job.” 

“You’re phenomenal, Lucia,” he assures her, scruffing up her hair and avoiding her irritated swats in retaliation as he wheels away to Aina’s desk. “We’re just missing something. A real lead, either into what’s coming next or where Detroit came from. I think the key is in the bioweapon.” 

Aina hums in thought, leaning further onto her desk to avoid the helicopter arms of Galo wheeling in circles beside her. 

“Hey, I have an idea,” she says with a snap of her fingers. “Let’s get coffee!” 

“Hard pass,” Lucia says shortly. “I’ve got plenty of fuel here.” 

She gestures grandly to her desk, which proudly displays a comically large jar of lollipops and is otherwise trashed with candy wrappers. 

Aina frowns. “It’s just around the corner. The weather’s nice, we should take a walk!” 

Lucia barks out a laugh as if Aina had said something hilarious. 

“You know I don’t do caffeine, but I’m down to join you,” Galo says, stretching his arms high. “I could use some fresh air. Clear my head.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Aina says cheerfully, pouting at Lucia as she stands from her chair. “I was gonna offer to grab you a brownie or something, Lucia, but I guess you’re good-” 

“ _Oh come on, that’s not fair-_ ” 

“Let’s get going, Galo!” 

Galo messes with Lucia’s hair one last time before heading out, ignoring her screeches of objection with a grin as he trails after Aina out of the building. 

Sure enough, the air is a lot crisper and cleaner outside than in the sweaty office they spend all day every day in. As they exit the dirty alleyway and enter the main streets, the overhead sun peeks through the gaps of the tall buildings around them and warms the breeze. 

He’s been so busy with the investigation, he hasn’t taken much time to take advantage of the weather! Better leave the gym be for a bit and enjoy the season while it lasts. 

Galo’s about to say as much to Aina, when he glances down and notices she’s tapping away at her phone. He frowns. 

“Hey, getting away from the office for a bit was your idea!” He says, nudging her with his elbow. “You’ve still got your nose buried in a computer. Mini, mobile computers still count.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” she chuckles, typing one last message before slipping her phone into her back pocket. “Just texting my sister.” 

“Heris?” 

“Mhm!” She hums, turning her face up towards the sun with a smile. “Just checking in on her. God, it feels nice today.” 

Galo grins, facing forward to do the same. 

They make it to a local cafe around the corner. Aina orders a coffee, and Galo decides to try out their new seasonal smoothies. 

Emphasis on smoothies, because he manages to convince the barista to mix all of the smoothie flavors into one disgusting fruity abomination. 

“I get the benefits of all the fruits this way,” he tells Aina, who frowns sourly as if she had to drink it herself. He takes a huge gulp, much of the pulp visibly struggling to make its way up the straw, and Aina pretends to gag. 

“You’re wild,” she remarks, leading him to the outside seating area and taking a seat at a vacant table. “I don’t know where you get these ideas about health from. You can take care of your body so many other ways that probably taste so much better.” 

“I like to do things differently,” he grins, earning an eye roll in response. 

“You could do things normally, you show off,” she says, stirring her coffee in one hand. “Just buy some fruit and eat them separately. Or make a fruit salad without blending it.” 

“It’s no fun that way,” he replies. “Besides, I don’t want to hear any health advice from the local caffeine addict.” 

Aina pauses mid-sip, glaring at him from over the rim of her cup. She swallows, staring down at her cup guiltily. 

“Heris has been bugging me to cut down on the coffees,” she admits. “I spent a few days at her place after we got, uh, fired. She babied the hell out of me the whole time.” 

“That sounds fun,” Galo chuckles. 

“Oh yeah, totally,” Aina groans. “She wakes up at 6 AM every day, even weekends. Tries to get me to do yoga and stuff. Honestly, I almost ended up wrestling with her a few times, and then I forgot she wasn’t as durable as me or you.” 

“ _Awww,”_ her friend coos. “Sounds like somebody missed me!” 

“Oh shut up,” she blushes, reaching over the table to smack his arm. “Like you didn’t miss the routine yourself! It was weird after we left. Everything stopped so quickly.” 

Galo hums in agreement, slurping at his drink and thinking back to his first few days of unemployment. 

He definitely didn’t stick to his usual workout regiment, and probably ate more pizza than recommended by a dietary professional. Totally a waste, though, considering they didn’t hit as hard with how piss-poor his mood was following the… incident. 

Flashes of red start to bubble up in his memory, and he stubbornly presses them back down. 

Aina watches him carefully. 

“We never really talked about it,” she says, drawing circles onto the table with her finger. “What happened.” 

Galo raises an eyebrow at her. “We both gave statements, though.” 

“You know what I mean,” she sighs, eyeing him tiredly. “What we saw and how we felt about it are two different things.” 

“Yeah well,” he readjusts in his chair, rubbing at his forearm and frowning down at the table. “I wouldn’t really know what to say or, how to explain what I felt. Feel. I don’t know.” 

“I tried, with Heris, but yeah. Like you said, it’s hard to explain.” 

“It’s kinda hard to even think about, to be honest.” 

“I dream about it sometimes,” Aina admits. 

Galo looks at her, and then at her throat. Clean and unmarred. He looks away. 

“I don’t really dream,” he says, and Aina chuckles. 

“That sounds like you.” 

They stare down at their drinks in silence. 

All around them, tables are packed with customers that chatter on noisily. The entrance to the little drink shop sounds constantly with the jingle of bells tied around the handle as customers come and go. A larger group of older women crowded in at a table burst into loud laughter, drawing the attention of the passing crowds for a moment before dying down into polite giggles. 

“We really suck at this, don’t we?” 

Galo glances up at his companion. “What do you mean?” 

Aina smiles ruefully at him, reaching over and patting his hand. “Taking a breather. Workaholics like us don’t know how to relax. Whenever we leave the office, we just end up taking the work with us. Just now, I was thinking, ‘maybe our guy isn’t a guy at all, and it’s a bunch of old ladies. They do a hit and then grab brunch, just like this. We’d never expect it.’” 

Galo grins. “You could be onto something. The guy I saw at the hospital was actually an old woman with the world’s best botox.” 

The two of them share a hearty laugh. The women at the far table turn their way, murmuring loudly about youth and energy before returning to their own conversation. Galo and Aina share a series of exaggerated looks, eyes darting back and forth between each other and the women. 

“Do you think they’d notice if we tailed them?” Galo says quietly, squinting with mock seriousness. 

“Galo, you’re like six feet tall, not including the mohawk.”

“You’re right,” he hums, leaning back and crossing his arms in concentration. “Would a man-bun be less suspicious?” 

Aina nearly cackles at the thought. Galo runs his fingers through his hair, pulling it back and pretending to begin tying it. Aina gasps through her giggles, swatting at his arms. He relents, the gravity-defying spikes of hair bouncing back into place. 

“I don’t think a man-bun’s gonna help us,” Aina says, smothering her laughs with her hand. “I mean, you’ve got a blue mohawk and my hair’s bright pink. We totally stand out.” 

“Classic his and hers undercover agents.” 

She bursts out into another fit of laughter. The group of women eye them once more, looking partially annoyed but mostly nosy. Galo winks in their direction, and they gasp in delight before turning towards each other in quiet excitement. 

Galo takes a sip of his drink, biting the straw between his grinning teeth. Aina chugs a few sips of her coffee and then sighs contentedly. She rests her chin in her palm, the smile on her face fading a bit as she stares into the clusters of people passing them by. 

“Does he stand out in a crowd, you think?” Aina asks absently. 

“Who?” 

She gives him a look. 

“Oh, Detroit?” Galo says. “I mean, yeah, I’d say so.” 

“I wonder if he knows you’re looking for him.” 

“What, me, specifically?” He laughs. “The hair tie guy he met in a bathroom?” 

“I don’t know,” Aina says, eyes roaming across the sea of people walking down the street. “We don’t really know what we’re dealing with, anyway. Maybe we’re targets, too.” 

“Oh come on, like that’s gonna happen-” 

“Oh, hey!” Aina calls out abruptly, standing from her seat with a wide smile. She waves her arm enthusiastically, beckoning towards their table with the other. 

Galo turns in his chair to see Heris Ardebit walking towards them. 

As she catches sight of her younger sister, Heris’ otherwise pale face beams with a bright smile. She doesn’t really notice Galo until he stands up to shake her hand. 

“Hi Heris! I’m Galo,” he smiles widely for her, endeared by how much she resembles Aina. Well, if Aina was dorkier and much more mellow. 

“Oh!” She says, and her voice is much softer than he expected. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise!” 

“Aina,” she says dotingly, taking a seat next to her sister and eyeing Galo curiously. “I thought it was strange of you to insist we meet up so last minute. Is something up?” 

“I knew you’d come either way. What, I can’t call you up for a quick coffee?” Aina says sweetly. 

Heris hums. “No, you wouldn’t. What do you need?” 

“Ugh,” Aina pouts. “Am I that transparent?” 

“Oh, absolutely.” 

“Fine,” she groans, pointing a thumb towards Galo. “I’m working on an investigation with this guy, and we’re stumped on the murder weapon. It’s weird and biochemical-or-something, so I thought you’d be able to help nudge us in the right direction-” 

“Aina!” Heris gasps, glancing around them nervously before leaning forward and lowering her voice. “Is this really something to be spoken about over coffee? I’m not sure it’s appropriate, really-” 

“It’s fine,” Aina says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Better in a public place than not. You don’t know who’s listening in. Anyway, you’ve worked on this kind of stuff before, so I just thought you might have some good input!” 

Her older sister frowns, eyeing Aina nervously as the younger of the two fishes out her phone from her back pocket. “I don’t know, this is top secret stuff, and the Director hasn’t authorized me to collaborate on any other cases-” 

“Wait, hold up,” Galo interjects, pointing his straw at their new company. “The Director? As in Director Foresight? You _work_ with him?” 

“Oh, yes,” Heris replies. “I’m usually directly under him.” 

Galo and Aina glance at each other. Heris flushes. 

“That’s _not-_ ” she stammers, covering her face with her hand in embarrassment. “ _Working,_ I’m usually _working_ directly under him- oh, god. That’s not what I meant at all!” 

“Heris assists with the departments that handle science stuff, but she’s more of an assistant to the Director than any department specifically,” Aina adds helpfully. “She’s that good.” 

“That’s amazing,” Galo says with wide eyes. 

“I’m more of a contract worker than an actual employee,” Heris coughs, adjusting her glasses and straightening her posture. “The Director has me working on specific projects that overlap with other departments when he needs the assistance. It just makes the whole process a lot faster if they don’t have to, uh, hot potato the investigation, so to speak. I work with different people depending on the case.” 

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you gave us a hand,” Aina smiles, handing her phone to her sister. “We’re reporting directly to him as well, so it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“Still, I’d like to get authorization first, considering you’re not sourcing me through-” Heris squints at the phone screen and immediately leans away with a cringe. “Oh, Aina, _please-_ ” 

“What? You deal with stuff like this all the time!” 

Her sister pulls her glasses to rest atop her head, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “I work with the chemicals, the DNA too sometimes, sure, but I’m not a pathologist! I have a weak stomach when it comes to actual bodies. Please, put it away.” 

“Fine,” Aina huffs, closing the photos and placing her phone face down on the table. “If I send you some of the data on the injuries without pictures, could you help us?” 

“Without pictures, I guess I could,” Heris replies warily. “But really, I’d love it if you’d brought this up officially instead of during a coffee date. I don’t think I even have the stomach for coffee anymore.” 

“But it’s so much faster this way,” her sister pouts before wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Besides, I get to see you!” 

Heris groans, unable to stop the grin from growing on her face. She turns to Galo with a sheepish smile. 

“You see how she manhandles me?” Heris complains. “A younger sibling should treat the eldest with respect.” 

Galo chuckles. “She’s worse with me.” 

“Stop badmouthing me,” Aina admonishes. “You both _adore_ me.” 

Galo and Heris share a look before bursting into laughter at Aina’s offended gasp. 

Across the street, a lone figure sips at a cup of black coffee and watches. 

* * *

By the time Galo leaves work, the sun is long gone, and all that’s left is a streak of red across a deep blue sky. A chill begins to creep in, and he picks up the pace towards his apartment building. 

He debates hitting the gym to get in a late workout and burn off some of the pent-up energy leftover from today’s tedious work. Stacks on stacks of lists and data were reviewed in every way possible by his team, with not much to show for it. Their victims are still just wealthy public figures with little to no relationship to one another, and nothing cohesive as evidence to tie the murders together. 

The last chance they have in finding anything is in their victims’ bank account histories. Galo has no doubt that there’s a lot of dirty money and transactions that were never intended to see the light of day, but dignity doesn’t really matter much when you’re dead. 

He hopes there’s something for them to chew on tomorrow. The only avenues they have left to explore are bank statements and Heris’ reluctant expedited scientific opinion on the autopsy reports. 

He still hasn’t reported to Kray at all yet. 

After such a leap of faith, letting him take over the investigation, Galo’s waiting for something substantial to bring to the table when they do touch base again. But it’s been a while now, and they’ve made no headway. 

He really, really needs to bust his ass on this case and find something to show for it. 

Kray hasn’t been a consistent or particularly active person in his life, but every time he chooses to involve himself with Galo he offers so much. A gentle nudge in the right direction, and a steadying hand when things are unstable and confusing. Maybe they’re just words, simple and short, but it’s kept him going for years. It might not seem like much to other people, but it’s a lot to Galo. 

Having someone smile and tell him “I believe in you” is a lot more than most people give, anyway. 

It’s important to him that he proves his value. He needs to show Kray, and everyone really, how much he’s earned that support. He’s not going to let anyone’s kindness go to waste. 

And he’s going to catch the bad guys and save people, like Kray. 

With a renewed sense of purpose and a boost in energy, Galo takes the multiple flights of stairs to his flat two steps at a time. Knees high, lunges low. He’s definitely gonna need that workout now. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket as he makes it to his floor, heading to his apartment door. He pulls it out with his keys in hand as well, fumbling with the lock as he presses the mobile between his shoulder and ear. 

“Yeah?” He says, jiggling the handle on his janky lock and successfully turning the key. 

“ _Galo, hi, it’s Heris._ ” 

“Oh, hey!” He replies cheerfully. “I didn’t expect you to get back to me so fast. Or at all, really. Is Aina with you?” 

“ _Um, no,_ ” she replies, voice uneasy. “ _I haven’t spoken to her yet. I actually got your number from our databases. I wanted to talk to you first._ ” 

Galo pauses for a moment. “You’re still at the office? What’s up?” 

There’s quiet for a moment as Galo shuffles into his apartment. He can hear what sounds like a sigh over the line, and involuntarily imagines Aina sighing at him and rubbing at her temples. 

“ _Listen,_ ” Heris continues, sounding eerily similar to her sister, _“I reviewed the reports you sent me just now, and… Well, I’ll just be completely honest with you. I’m not sure that pursuing this investigation is entirely… safe._ ” 

“What do you mean?” Galo asks, tense in the dark of his entryway. 

“ _Look, I’m not really sure how much I’m allowed to disclose or, if I’m even supposed to be talking to you about this in the first place, but…_ ” A clicking noise can be heard, probably from a mouse, Galo guesses. “ _When I read the autopsy reports, some of the details sounded kind of similar to something I’ve worked on before._ ” 

“Really! That’s good then, right?” He flicks on the light, tugging off his shoes and entering his living room. It smells like stale pizza, he realizes with a frown, and opens the window. 

“ _Mm, I don’t know,_ ” Heris replies. “ _This is one of those things that, typically, the department head would move on up to the higher authorities and have a specialized team serve to investigate._ ” 

The phone is tucked back against his shoulder as Galo digs around for a scented candle to light to help with the smell a bit. “Well that’s us, right?” 

“ _Right, I guess,_ ” she sounds so much like Aina, and he almost says as much, but she continues: “ _That’s what bothers me about it.”_

As if she can sense his offense, she quickly begins speaking again. 

“ _Not that I’m saying your team is incapable or anything! Especially Aina, I know how much experience she has in this field. It’s just… Odd, for one, that the Director assigned you as head of the investigation and let you choose whoever to assist you when you’re so new. Aina told me how small your team is, and none of you have connections or access to any of the typical resources our more experienced people have, and… God, I sound like I’m just dogging on you, don’t I?”_

“If you’re not, no offense taken,” Galo says, leaning against his kitchen counter and watching the flame of the candle flicker. “If you are though, I’m totally telling Aina that you called me just to neg me.” 

_“I’m sorry,”_ Heris sighs. _“It’s just strange to me. Your team is, in my opinion, a little under-equipped and understaffed to take on a case that has time restraints like this one. That, and if I’m connecting the right dots, then this one might be something the Director should be handling himself.”_

“Why’s that?” 

_ “The injuries inflicted on the victims’ bodies, the burns,”  _ she clarifies,  _ “I’ve seen them before. The Director had me do some research, all theoretical mind you, on something similar a few years ago. I wasn’t high enough on the ladder to really know what was going on, but I do know that whatever I was studying was some sort of weapon owned by our government and very privately...contained.”  _

“Hang on,” Galo straightens. “Then that means whoever is killing these people somehow had access to some top secret stuff. Do you think this is some sort of consp-” 

_ “No,”  _ Heris cuts in firmly,  _ “and I wouldn’t use that word. All I’m saying is that I think this case involves some things that are way beyond you or Aina’s authority, and you might not be equipped to continue the investigation much further than you already have.”  _

Galo’s jaw tightens, possibilities and lack thereof running through his head faster and faster. 

“ _Galo,_ ” Heris speaks quietly over the receiver. “ _I’m not trying to discourage you or tell you not to do your job. I just…”_

There’s a beat of silence before she continues softly. 

_ “I’m worried for you, and for Aina.”  _

“The Director gave me this opportunity himself,” Galo says tightly. “He saw my research and gave me a chance to continue it. Vulcan _fired_ me before I could really look into it-” 

_ “That’s what worries me,”  _ she presses. “ _ You were just removed from the department, so you and Aina are no longer publicly government employees. No one’s watching over you anymore. And then he puts you in charge of this case with nothing but your own findings, even though I’m pretty sure he- we have records of a similar situation from years back that no one has brought up yet.”  _

“Well we asked you, and you knew,” he retorts. “Who else was working on that project you mentioned?” 

_ “Not many others besides me. But my issue is that... well… the Director himself was head of that investigation.”  _

Galo opens his mouth, but can’t think of anything to say. The cogs in his brain start to slow down as he begins to understand what she’s getting at. 

Heris speaks again. _“He didn’t mention it at all, did he?”_

“No,” Galo murmurs. “No, he didn’t.” 

_ “I’m sorry,”  _ she says.  _ “I know you and the Director… I don’t mean to-”  _

“It’s okay,” he replies gently, voice much softer than the tension in his body. “I’m sure he has his reasons. We asked you for help without going through the proper channels, and you did help us, so thank you for that. Sorry to worry you.” 

He can hear the frown in her voice. _“No, it’s fine, I just-”_

“Thanks for your help, Heris. I’ll speak to the Director about it properly tomorrow. Have a good night.” 

_ “Galo, wait-”  _

He hangs up the phone, barely holding back from throwing it across the room. 

Instead, he throws himself against the couch with an audible groan, hands scrubbing through his hair and pressing into his face. The phone flops off the cushion and onto the floor.

Well, great. Either his idol is giving him a dead end investigation out of pity, or he’s holding back on information he knows would help further the investigation because he’s covering his own ass. 

Galo can’t decide which is worse. He also can’t believe that Kray would personally be so underhanded, but that’s besides the point. 

What’s important is that the investigation has leads, and those leads need to be followed through. 

Galo sighs. Ignis would be proud of him for that one. 

He sinks a little further into the couch, eyes closed, and realizes with resignation that he probably won’t be getting any sleep tonight. Thankfully the gym is open late, so at least he’ll be doing something other than tossing and turning for a while. 

A breeze flows in from the open window, and he feels goosebumps on his skin. 

Galo opens his eyes. 

Standing before him is a figure dressed in all black, with icy blond hair and striking violet eyes. 

Detroit. 

His heart explodes in his chest.

He should scream, he knows. His body definitely wants to, with how badly his throat burns and constricts, but no sound comes out. He can’t move, every muscle stiff as stone and locked in place. The most lethal assassin he has ever known is standing less than two feet from him, in his home. Alone.

Detroit stares down at him, eyes sharp as steel, and speaks: 

“Hello again, Galo Thymos.” 

Galo can barely breathe, lightheaded by how rigidly his body is frozen into place and also by how baffling polite his company is. He draws in an audibly ragged breath, and swallows thickly.

“H-hey.” 

Detroit stares at him curiously, the same look he gave him at the hospital when Galo offered up his hair tie. It’s surreal how the image of the nurse collides so forcefully with the sight before him now - a cold-blooded killer, looking down at his next target. 

Galo belatedly realizes that he’s about to die. 

“You’re strange,” Detroit says, voice smooth and soft and absolutely terrifying. “I expected you to be… loud.” 

There are a thousand things he should be doing right now, namely, running and fighting for his fucking life. But with those words, and the way Detroit watches him like Galo’s the puzzle, and the absurdity that he’s somehow still alive, something roots Galo in place. 

He also realizes that this is likely his only chance to talk to him. 

With a dizzying sense of calm, Galo meets his eye. “Are they usually loud?” 

Something in his gaze shifts, as if pained. It’s fascinating, and horribly misplaced. 

“Yes.” 

His voice comes out as no more than a murmur, empty and cold. The candlelight reflects ever so slightly in his eyes, bright and unwavering. But then, Galo notices, beneath that, he has bags under his eyes. His skin is as pale as he remembers, but today, there’s something off about his unusual palor. 

The ferocity evident from the aftermath of his kills is simply not there in the man that stands before him now. Detroit looks worn down and exhausted. 

Galo’s jaw drops a bit at the revelation. 

“You don’t _want_ to kill me, do you?” 

His phone pings from its spot on the floor. In the split second it takes Galo to look away, Detroit is on top of him. His slender limbs hold a shocking amount of strength, legs folded atop Galo’s, pinning him down to the couch. One hand holds Galo’s wrists together, shoved in between the small space between their legs, while the other grips his throat tightly. 

At every point of contact, there is searing heat. 

A choked noise escapes his constricted throat, and though he struggles in the hold, Detroit does not budge. Instead, he looks furious, mouth set in a deep scowl as he leans close. 

“Were you expecting me, Galo Thymos?” He asks through gritted teeth. 

“ _N-ngh-_ ” Galo struggles against his grip, coughing wetly as the scorching fingers around his throat loosen just enough to push the words out. “ _N-no, I wasn’t!_ ” 

“What is it, then?” Detroit glares, tossing his head in the direction of the kitchen. “There’s no one else here, and you have no security, but you don’t seem surprised by my being here.” 

“I _am,_ ” Galo gasps, looking up at Detroit in earnest. “I am s-surprised.” 

“But you know I’m here to kill you.” 

Galo lets out a wheeze, eyes struggling to stay open as he barely gets in enough oxygen to breathe. 

“Haven’t, hhh-” Galo manages to meet his eyes, “h-haven’t killed me yet.” 

The assassin considers him for a moment, and then his grip on Galo’s throat tightens. 

Galo grits his teeth against the pain, eyes shutting tight as he fights against his final moments- 

And then gravity flips him, a confusing tangle of limbs and power forcing him sideways, and then onto his back. The weight atop his thighs is heavier now, and he can’t move an inch. His arms have been forced above his head, claw-like fingers pressing them into the couch painfully. 

The grip around his throat, thankfully, loosens just enough to breathe deep. 

Galo gasps for air, seeing stars of pink and teal and white in his blurry vision. It takes him a moment to realize their new position- he’s even more vulnerable and incapable of defending himself this way, he realizes, but at least he can breathe a bit better. 

His vision clears, and he sees Detroit staring down at him just inches above. A curtain of light hair frames his face, the tips almost close enough to brush against Galo’s cheek. 

“I have questions,” he says firmly. 

“So do I,” Galo coughs. 

The assassin scoffs, and he’s probably about as baffled by Galo’s behavior as Galo himself is. 

But in this state of utter defeat, and probably minutes before the end of his life, he’s got nothing else to lose. 

“What do you know?” Detroit demands. 

“About you?” Galo says. “Not much. Why are you killing people?” 

The heat, somehow, gets hotter around his throat. It’s painful, and there are flickers of bright light at the edges of his vision that he’s not sure are physically there or not. 

“You don’t get to ask questions,” his captor growls. “If you don’t answer mine, you die sooner.” 

“Agh, ouch! _Okay!_ ” Galo clenches his teeth. “I know you’ve targeted three people so far, not including the people at the hospital, and you’re going to target more.” 

“That’s obvious. What else?” 

Galo glares at him. “You’re the one doing the kills, but you have people working with you. Your targets are specific, and you’re heading east, closer to Promepolis. And...you’re using some sort of bioweapon you either stole or bought to murder your victims.”

Detroit sneers. “Is that what they’re calling us now? A bioweapon?” 

“Us?” Galo repeats. “There’s more than one weapo- _nngh!_ ” 

“ _I told you,_ ” he growls, “ _I’m_ the one asking the questions.” 

A frustrated noise chokes out of his throat, and Galo struggles to no avail in the assassin’s grip. 

“ _Why-_ ” Galo rasps, twisting his neck and straining to get the words out, “ _why are you killing people?!_ ” 

“Shut up! You’re an idiot, you know that?” Detroit scowls. “Is that really all you know?” 

With labored breaths and a dry swallow, Galo looks up at Detroit with a determined glare. 

“I know,” he breathes shallowly, “that you don’t really want to kill me.” 

Detroit freezes, eyes wide and furious and something else that Galo can’t place. He’s so visibly upset, which is so bizarre and unexpected for a murderer of his caliber. All this strength and power, and yet there’s this inner conflict that completely contradicts everything he knows about psychopaths and murderers.

He stares hard at Galo, angry, tired, and tormented. It throws Galo’s entire world off balance, and he wants nothing more than to find out why. 

Galo gazes resolutely back at him, curiosity replacing fear. The rest of the world fades away. 

He asks again. 

“Why are you killing people?” 

“...The burnish don’t kill without reason,” Detroit says, harsh and angry. “Every single target is more than deserving of their fate.” 

“Why me, then?” Galo asks, voice low. “Do I deserve it too?” 

The hand around his throat twitches. “You’re trying to stop us.” 

“I’m trying to save people,” Galo replies, wincing as the knees atop his thighs press harshly into muscle. 

“You’re wasting your time,” Detroit says. “You don’t understand what or who you’re throwing your life away for.” 

“Then _tell me!_ ” Galo grits, wincing. 

“Why?” The assassin demands. “What does it matter to you, why I’ve done the things that I’ve done? You’re going to die anyway.” 

“It matters. Of course it fucking matters. If I’m going to die, it better be for the right reasons.” 

“Plenty of people die for the wrong reasons,” he snarls. “Countless people die needlessly. People die every single day for the wrong reasons, and they don’t get any fucking say in it either.” 

“I know that,” Galo strains. “I know, and I’m trying to help.” 

Detroit looks at him for a moment, and relents ever so slightly. It’s so quiet in the room, and Galo can hear the pounding blood in his veins. The panic begins to ebb at the almost sorrowful look on the assassin’s face. 

“I know what happened to you,” he says quietly. “The fire. Your family. I saw the articles.” 

Galo stares hard at his captor, shaking in his hold. 

“You would be shocked,” he continues, voice barely above a whisper, mere inches away, “if you knew who was responsible for that fire.” 

Something cold seeps into his blood at those words. 

“No one was responsible,” Galo rasps. “That fire was-” 

“Strategically placed,” Detroit says, watching Galo closely. “Planned by people who were trying to cover their own tracks. The building that caught fire was not abandoned. They lied.” 

A pool of dread fills his stomach, leaden and cold. It’s been so long, over a decade, since he last truly mourned for those lost in the fire. The implications of what Detroit is saying would normally have Galo’s mind running wild - but in this moment, with his vision full of just the man himself, something else crosses his mind. 

His chest fills with air from a slow, limited inhale, and he watches as Detroit sinks lower atop his chest with his exhale. His eyes never leave Galo’s face, observing him carefully. 

Galo begins to understand something about the man who doesn’t want to kill him, and it hurts as much as the strange fire against his skin. 

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he murmurs. “But it’s not going to be enough. Killing the people responsible for whatever you’re fighting isn’t going to fix things.”

Detroit’s eyes go wide with fury. “ _I beg to fucking differ._ ” 

The hand around his throat releases suddenly, only to bring his clenched fist into full view. 

It’s hard to make out clearly in the dark and shadow, but Galo’s eyes adjust, and he witnesses a horrific transformation. 

Detroit’s hands are encased in leather gloves, and the material strains under the tension in his fist. Ribbons of smoke begin to stream through his closed fingers, a bright neon color seeping through the gaps. The black of his gloves begin to bubble, and morph, and move across his skin in a slithering motion. But it’s not really his gloves, Galo realizes, as the material encases his entire hand and solidifies with sharp, sleek edges. His fingertips end in immaculate claws, a noise not unlike metal on metal whining as they spread apart. 

Light seems to radiate from the solid black forms, flickering to life and sparking into an actual blazing fire in the palm of his hand. Except it looks nothing like the small flame flickering in his still burning candle in the kitchen. Instead, it’s wild and erratic, and shifts from hues of pink to teal as it shifts and sparks. He can feel the heat dancing across his face.

It’s terrifying, and in a moment of delirium, Galo finds it beautiful. 

“For these flames,” Detroit whispers, the flames dancing between his monstrous digits, “countless lives were lost. Innocent people are still dying. I can use this power to stop them from hurting more people. I can end our suffering.”

“ _How…_ ” Galo inhales sharply at the sight of Detroit’s eyes practically glowing in the light, the vivid violet now dancing with magenta hues. “How is that… Did someone do this to you?” 

“Yes,” Detroit replies, snuffing the flame in his hand, “and no.” 

“What do you m-” Galo begins to speak, but the nightmarish claws once again find his throat. He grits his teeth as Detroit shifts, lifting Galo’s entire torso with just one hand around his neck until he’s sitting up again. 

“You’re right, you know,” the assassin says, frowning at him. “I don’t want to kill you.” 

“Then _don’t,_ ” Galo manages to choke out. “ _I-I can h...help you-_ ” 

Detroit’s eyes widen, shocked and incredulous at the offer. He releases a breath - maybe a laugh, if Galo looks into it, and for a moment he’s not on the brink of death and he’s once again offering aid to a pretty person he met in the bathroom. But the moment passes, and Detroit’s eyes are as sharp as the talons around his neck as they bore into him. 

“You can help me by not fighting this,” Detroit says, and his face is stone cold once more. “I don’t want to take any more lives than absolutely necessary. I’ve already taken too much.” 

Detroit rises from his position, standing and raising Galo into the air as if he weighed nothing. The force of being lifted by just the hand around his neck makes it impossible to breathe, and his hands claw at Detroit’s deceptively thin wrist. 

Galo’s vision begins to darken as the grip around his throat tightens. “ _W-w...wait-_ ” 

A knock sounds from the entrance, followed by the creaking of his front door opening wide. Light spills from the hallway, illuminating Detroit from behind. 

Both of their eyes widen. 

“Galo~,” a soft voice calls. “You left your front door unlocked again, dummy!”

As the shuffling continues at the entrance, Detroit’s face twists up, as if in pain. He looks to Galo, who, despite the lightheadedness and his vision blurring, manages to slowly shake his head. 

“Did you eat yet? I have some lumpia for you!” The voice continues. “Lola made too much again.” 

‘ _Please,_ ’ he mouths. 

Detroit grits his teeth, screwing his eyes shut. He lets go.

Galo falls against the couch with a gasp. 

A shadow begins to creep into the room. Detroit moves towards the open window. 

Galo reaches out, gently holding his wrist.

Detroit freezes in place. 

“Oh!” 

Galo’s sweet neighbor, Thyma, enters the room. Her eyes widen at the unexpected company, eyes darting between Galo and Detroit. Something seems to click for her, and her mouth forms a little ‘o,’ cheeks red in embarrassment as she hugs a large foiled plate to her chest. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she squeaks. “I didn’t know you had someone over!” 

“It’s okay,” Galo rasps, voice hoarse, but his eyes never leave Detroit’s. 

“I’ll just, um,” Thyma fidgets in place, moving towards the kitchen area awkwardly. “I’ll just leave this here, and-” 

“No, it’s alright,” Detroit speaks, looking up at Thyma with a polite and almost apologetic expression. “I was just leaving.” 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” she says bashfully, shoulders coming up towards her reddened ears. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything. I can just go, if you guys, um…” 

“It’s fine,” Detroit assures her, glancing down at Galo. “I’ll just come back another time.” 

He steps around the couch, pulling away from Galo’s grasp, and Galo lets his wrist slip through his fingers. 

Thyma scrambles in place for a moment before setting the dish down on the kitchen counter. As Detroit makes his way to the hall, she moves to stand in front of him, hand extended. 

“I’m Thyma,” she greets with a sheepish smile. “Super sorry about dropping in on you guys. If you want, you can take home some lumpia, um…” 

He pauses, staring down at her hand. 

“Wait-” Galo calls from the couch in a wheeze, clearing his throat before continuing, “Whatever you’re dealing with, I can help you. It doesn’t have to be life or death!” 

Detroit’s eyes go impossibly wide, turning to Galo in disbelief. 

“You- after _everything_ I just said-” he shuts his eyes, sighing. “You don’t even know me.” 

Galo fixes his gaze on him, determined and deliberate. “I’d like to.”

The room goes silent. 

“Think about it!” Galo leans over the couch with a cough. “We could go public!”

Detroit looks at him skeptically.

“You really are something else.” 

“So are you.” 

“Um,” Thyma’s hand hovers in place awkwardly. “Seriously, I can leave…”

“No,” Detroit shakes his head, turning back to her. “It’s fine, really. I’ll head out now.” 

“Oh, okay,” she murmurs, retracting her hand and eyeing him curiously as he walks past. “It was nice meeting you, I guess...” 

“Likewise.” 

He barely makes it two steps before she calls out to him again. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to take any lumpia with you?” She says, thumbing to the plate on the counter. “I just feel so bad about walking in on you two!” 

He lets out a breath, turning over his shoulder to smile kindly at her. 

“I appreciate it, but no. Thank you, Thyma.” 

“Sure! I, uh,” she blushes, gaze falling to the floor. “I never caught your name.” 

Detroit stares at her, then at Galo. 

“Lio.” 

“Lio,” Thyma repeats with a warm smile. “I hope I see you around sometime, Lio!” 

He returns the smile, glancing once more in Galo’s direction. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he says quietly, like a promise. “Galo.” 

“Alright,” Galo breathes, his throat still hoarse. 

With one last nod, he walks out the door, and then he’s gone. 

And Galo is somehow, miraculously, still alive. 

His body catches up just a second after his mind processes this fact, and he slumps back against the couch with a weak groan. His hands come up to cover his face, trembling slightly. 

Thyma hurries towards him, excitedly leaning over the edge of the couch. 

“Galo,” she giggles, “Galo, oh my _god_.” 

He hums in question, nonchalant, doing his best to hide the shivering. 

“That was _intense!_ ” She says in a hush, scandalized tone. “You’re into some kinky stuff.” 

_“What?”_ He gapes at her, hands dropping from his face. “What are you talking about?” 

“Quit playing!” She smacks his arm, grinning. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I saw the gloves. And the full leather get up? _Come on_.” 

Galo’s jaw drops as he stares at her in disbelief. After a long moment of his brain struggling to catch up, he realizes, and begins to laugh hysterically. 

He laughs until he’s breathless, which is very soon considering the state of his abused throat. The laughing fit turns into a series of harsh coughs, and soon Thyma’s sitting beside him and patting at his back. 

“He’s hot,” Thyma comments casually. 

Galo coughs out another laugh, skin still stinging. “No kidding.” 

“What were you two doing before I came in?” She asks curiously, eyeing him up and down. “Wait, actually, don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know.” 

Galo clears his throat, hand massaging at his neck. “He was choking me out.” 

“ _Oh my god, I said I didn’t wanna know!_ ” 

He chuckles hoarsely at her, tears stinging his eyes. Whether they’re tears of laughter, or relief, or fear, he’s not sure. 

His phone, momentarily forgotten, pings once more from its place on the carpet. 

Galo reaches down, picking it up and opening the messages. 

**Lucia, 6:42PM:** hey i found something 

**Lucia, 7:07PM:** i think i have our hit list

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was my favorite chapter to write so far. 
> 
> also, thank you to those who have left comments! they made me laugh. nice to know other people are having a good time too.


End file.
